BAT WING

BY SAX ROHMER

[Illustration: "_When the woman raised her arms in a peculiarfashion, the shadow on the blind was remarkably like that of abat_"]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. PAUL HARLEY OF CHANCERY LANE II. THE VOODOO SWAMP III. THE VAMPIRE BAT IV. CRAY'S FOLLY V. VAL BEVERLEY VI. THE BARRIER VII. AT THE LAVENDER ARMS VIII. THE CALL OF M'KOMBO IX. OBEAH X. THE NIGHT WALKER XI. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND XII. MORNING MISTS XIII. AT THE GUEST HOUSE XIV. YSOLA CAMBER XV. UNREST XVI. RED EVE XVII. NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON XVIII. INSPECTOR AYLESBURY OF MARKET HILTON XIX. COMPLICATIONS. XX. A SPANISH CIGARETTE XXI. THE WING OF A BAT XXII. COLIN CAMBER'S SECRET XXIII. INSPECTOR AYLESBURY CROSS-EXAMINES XXIV. AN OFFICIAL MOVE XXV. AYLESBURY'S THEORY XXVI. IN MADAME'S ROOM XXVII. AN INSPIRATIONXXVIII. MY THEORY OF THE CRIME XXIX. A LEE-ENFIELD RIFLE XXX. THE SEVENTH YEW TREE XXXI. YSOLA CAMBER'S CONFESSION XXXII. PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENTXXXIII. PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED XXXIV. THE CREEPING SICKNESS XXXV. AN AFTERWORD

CHAPTER I

PAUL HARLEY OF CHANCERY LANE

Toward the hour of six on a hot summer's evening Mr. Paul Harley wasseated in his private office in Chancery Lane reading through a numberof letters which Innes, his secretary, had placed before him forsignature. Only one more remained to be passed, but it was a long, confidential report upon a certain matter, which Harley had preparedfor His Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. He glanced with a sigh of weariness at the little clock upon his tablebefore commencing to read. 

"Shall detain you only a few minutes, now, Knox, " he said. 

I nodded, smiling. I was quite content to sit and watch my friend atwork. 

Paul Harley occupied a unique place in the maelstrom of vice andambition which is sometimes called London life. Whilst at present heheld no official post, some of the most momentous problems of Britishpolicy during the past five years, problems imperilling inter-staterelationships and not infrequently threatening a renewal of the worldwar, had owed their solution to the peculiar genius of this man. 

No clue to his profession appeared upon the plain brass plate attachedto his door, and little did those who regarded Paul Harley merely as asuccessful private detective suspect that he was in the confidence ofsome who guided the destinies of the Empire. Paul Harley's work inConstantinople during the feverish months preceding hostilities withTurkey, although unknown to the general public, had been of a mostextraordinary nature. His recommendations were never adopted, unfortunately. Otherwise, the tragedy of the Dardanelles might havebeen averted. 

His surroundings as he sat there, gaze bent upon the typewritten pages, were those of any other professional man. So it would have seemed tothe casual observer. But perhaps there was a quality in the atmosphereof the office which would have told a more sensitive visitor that itwas the apartment of no ordinary man of business. Whilst there werefiling cabinets and bookshelves laden with works of reference, many ofthem legal, a large and handsome Burmese cabinet struck an unexpectednote. 

On closer inspection, other splashes of significant colour must havebeen detected in the scheme, notably a very fine engraving of EdgarAllan Poe, from the daguerreotype of 1848; and upon the man himself laythe indelible mark of the tropics. His clean-cut features had that hintof underlying bronze which tells of years spent beneath a mercilesssun, and the touch of gray at his temples only added to the eager, almost fierce vitality of the dark face. Paul Harley was notablebecause of that intellectual strength which does not strike oneimmediately, since it is purely temperamental, but which, nevertheless, invests its possessor with an aura of distinction. 

Writing his name at the bottom of the report, Paul Harley enclosed thepages in a long envelope and dropped the envelope into a basket whichcontained a number of other letters. His work for the day was ended, and glancing at me with a triumphant smile, he stood up. His office wasa part of a residential suite, but although, like some old-time burgherof the city, he lived on the premises, the shutting of a door which ledto his private rooms marked the close of the business day. Pressing abell which connected with the public office occupied by his secretary, Paul Harley stood up as Innes entered. 

"There's nothing further, is there, Innes?" he asked. 

"Nothing, Mr. Harley, if you have passed the Home Office report?"

Paul Harley laughed shortly. 

"There it is, " he replied, pointing to the basket; "a tedious andthankless job, Innes. It is the fifth draft you have prepared and itwill have to do. "

He took up a letter which lay unsealed upon the table. "This is theRokeby affair, " he said. "I have decided to hold it over, after all, until my return. "

"Ah!" said Innes, quietly glancing at each envelope as he took it fromthe basket. "I see you have turned down the little job offered by theMarquis. "

"I have, " replied Harley, smiling grimly, "and a fee of five hundredguineas with it. I have also intimated to that distressed nobleman thatthis is a business office and that a laundry is the proper place totake his dirty linen. No, there's nothing further to-night, Innes. Youcan get along now. Has Miss Smith gone?"

But as if in answer to his enquiry the typist, who with Innes made upthe entire staff of the office, came in at that moment, a card in herhand. Harley glanced across in my direction and then at the card, witha wry expression. 

"Colonel Juan Menendez, " he read aloud, "Cavendish Club, " and glancedreflectively at Innes. "Do we know the Colonel?"

"I think not, " answered Innes; "the name is unfamiliar to me. "

"I wonder, " murmured Harley. He glanced across at me. "It's an awfulnuisance, Knox, but just as I thought the decks were clear. Is itsomething really interesting, or does he want a woman watched? However, his name sounds piquant, so perhaps I had better see him. Ask him tocome in, Miss Smith. "

Innes and Miss Smith retiring, there presently entered a man of moststriking and unusual presence. In the first place, Colonel Menendezmust have stood fully six feet in his boots, and he carried himselflike a grandee of the golden days of Spain. His complexion wasextraordinarily dusky, whilst his hair, which was close cropped, wasiron gray. His heavy eyebrows and curling moustache with its littlepoints were equally black, so that his large teeth gleamed veryfiercely when he smiled. His eyes were large, dark, and brilliant, andalthough he wore an admirably cut tweed suit, for some reason Ipictured him as habitually wearing riding kit. Indeed I almost seemedto hear the jingle of his spurs. 

He carried an ebony cane for which I mentally substituted a crop, andhis black derby hat I thought hardly as suitable as a sombrero. His agemight have been anything between fifty and fifty-five. 

Standing in the doorway he bowed, and if his smile was Mephistophelean, there was much about Colonel Juan Menendez which commanded respect. 

"Mr. Harley, " he began, and his high, thin voice afforded yet anothersurprise, "I feel somewhat ill at ease to--how do you say it?--appropriate your time, as I am by no means sure that what I have to sayjustifies my doing so. "

He spoke most fluent, indeed florid, English. But his sentences attimes were oddly constructed; yet, save for a faint accent, and hisfrequent interpolation of such expressions as "how do you say?"--a sortof nervous mannerism--one might have supposed him to be a Britisher whohad lived much abroad. I formed the opinion that he had readextensively, and this, as I learned later, was indeed the case. 

"Sit down, Colonel Menendez, " said Harley with quiet geniality. "Officially, my working day is ended, I admit, but if you have noobjection to the presence of my friend, Mr. Knox, I shall be most happyto chat with you. "

He smiled in a way all his own. 

"If your business is of a painfully professional nature, " he added, "Imust beg you to excuse me for fourteen days, as I am taking a badlyneeded holiday with my friend. "

"Ah, is it so?" replied the Colonel, placing his hat and cane upon thetable, and sitting down rather wearily in a big leathern armchair whichHarley had pushed forward. "If I intrude I am sorry, but indeed mybusiness is urgent, and I come to you on the recommendation of myfriend, Senor Don Merry del Val, the Spanish Ambassador. "

He raised his eyes to Harley's face with an expression of peculiarappeal. I rose to depart, but:

"Sit down, Knox, " said Harley, and turned again to the visitor. "Pleaseproceed, " he requested. "Mr. Knox has been with me in some of the mostdelicate cases which I have ever handled, and you may rely upon hisdiscretion as you may rely upon mine. " He pushed forward a box ofcigars. "Will you smoke?"

"Thanks, no, " was the answer; "you see, I rarely smoke anything but mycigarettes. "

Colonel Menendez extracted a slip of rice paper from a little packetwhich he carried, next, dipping two long, yellow fingers into his coatpocket, he brought out a portion of tobacco, laid it in the paper, andalmost in the twinkling of an eye had made, rolled, and lighted a verycreditable cigarette. His dexterity was astonishing, and seeing mysurprise he raised his heavy eyebrows, and:

"Practice makes perfect, is it not said?" he remarked. 

He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the extinguished match in an ashtray, whilst I studied him with increasing interest. Some dread, realor imaginary, was oppressing the man's mind, I mused. I felt mypresence to be unwelcome, but:

"Very well, " he began, suddenly. "I expect, Mr. Harley, that you willbe disposed to regard what I have to tell you rather as a symptom ofwhat you call nerves than as evidence of any agency directed againstme. "

Paul Harley stared curiously at the speaker. "Do I understand you tosuspect that someone is desirous of harming you?" he enquired. 

Colonel Menendez slowly nodded his head. 

"Such is my meaning, " he replied. 

"You refer to bodily harm?"

"But yes, emphatically. "

"Hm, " said Harley; and taking out a tin of tobacco from a cabinetbeside him he began in leisurely manner to load a briar. "No doubt youhave good reasons for this suspicion?"

"If I had not good reasons, Mr. Harley, nothing could have induced meto trouble you. Yet, even now that I have compelled myself to comehere, I find it difficult, almost impossible, to explain those reasonsto you. "

An expression of embarrassment appeared upon the brown face, and nowColonel Menendez paused and was plainly at a loss for words with whichto continue. 

Harley replaced the tin in the cupboard and struck a match. Lightinghis pipe he nodded good humouredly as if to say, "I quite understand. "As a matter of fact, he probably thought, as I did, that this was afamiliar case of a man of possibly blameless life who had becomesubject to that delusion which leads people to believe themselvesthreatened by mysterious and unnameable danger. 

Our visitor inhaled deeply. 

"You, of course, are waiting for the facts, " he presently resumed, speaking with a slowness which told of a mind labouring for the rightmode of expression. "These are so scanty, I fear, of so, shall I say, phantom a kind, that even when they are in your possession you willconsider me to be merely the victim of a delusion. In the first place, then, I have reason to believe that someone followed me from my home toyour office. "

"Indeed, " said Paul Harley, sympathetically, for this I perceived wasexactly what he had anticipated, and merely tended to confirm hissuspicion. "Some member of your household?"

"Certainly not. "

"Did you actually see this follower?"

"My dear sir, " cried Colonel Menendez, excitement emphasizing hisaccent, "if I had seen him, so much would have been made clear, somuch! I have never seen him, but I have heard him and felt him--felthis presence, I mean. "

"In what way?" asked Harley, leaning back in his chair and studying thefierce face. 

"On several occasions on turning out the light in my bedroom andlooking across the lawn from my window I have observed the shadow ofsomeone--how do you say?--lurking in the garden. "

"The shadow?"

"Precisely. The person himself was concealed beneath a tree. When hemoved his shadow was visible on the ground. "

"You were not deceived by a waving branch?"

"Certainly not. I speak of a still, moonlight night. "

"Possibly, then, it was the shadow of a tramp, " suggested Harley. "Igather that you refer to a house in the country?"

"It was not, " declared Colonel Menendez, emphatically; "it was not. Iwish to God I could believe it had been. Then there was, a month ago, an attempt to enter my house. "

Paul Harley exhibited evidence of a quickening curiosity. He hadperceived, as I had perceived, that the manner of the speaker differedfrom that of the ordinary victim of delusion, with whom he had becomeprofessionally familiar. 

"You had actual evidence of this?" he suggested. 

"It was due to insomnia, sleeplessness, brought about, yes, I willadmit it, by apprehension, that I heard the footsteps of thisintruder. "

"But you did not see him?"

"Only his shadow"

"What!"

"You can obtain the evidence of all my household that someone hadactually entered, " declared Colonel Menendez, eagerly. "Of this, atleast, I can give you the certain facts. Whoever it was had obtainedaccess through a kitchen window, had forced two locks, and was comingstealthily along the hallway when the sound of his footsteps attractedmy attention. "

"What did you do?"

"I came out on to the landing and looked down the stairs. But even theslight sound which I made had been sufficient to alarm the midnightvisitor, for I had never a glimpse of him. Only, as he went swiftlyback in the direction from which he had come, the moonlight shining inthrough a window in the hall cast his shadow on the carpet. "

"Strange, " murmured Harley. "Very strange, indeed. The shadow told younothing?"

"Nothing at all. "

Colonel Menendez hesitated momentarily, and glanced swiftly across atHarley. 

"It was just a vague--do you say blur?--and then it was gone. But--"

"Yes, " said Harley. "But?"

"Ah, " Colonel Menendez blew a cloud of smoke into the air, "I come nowto the matter which I find so hard to explain. "

He inhaled again deeply and was silent for a while. 

"Nothing was stolen?" asked Harley. 

"Nothing whatever. "

"And no clue was left behind?"

"No clue except the filed fastening of a window and two open doorswhich had been locked as usual when the household retired. "

"Hm, " mused Harley again; "this incident, of course, may have been anisolated one and in no way connected with the surveillance of which youcomplain. I mean that this person who undoubtedly entered your housemight prove to be an ordinary burglar. "

"On a table in the hallway of Cray's Folly, " replied Colonel Menendez, impressively--"so my house is named--stands a case containingpresentation gold plate. The moonlight of which I have spoken wasshining fully upon this case, and does the burglar live who will passsuch a prize and leave it untouched?"

"I quite agree, " said Harley, quietly, "that this is a very big point. "

"You are beginning at last, " suggested the Colonel, "to believe that mysuspicions are not quite groundless?"

"There is a distinct possibility that they are more than suspicions, "agreed Harley; "but may I suggest that there is something else? Haveyou an enemy?"

"Who that has ever held public office is without enemies?"

"Ah, quite so. Then I suggest again that there is something else. "

He gazed keenly at his visitor, and the latter, whilst meeting the lookunflinchingly with his large dark eyes, was unable to conceal the factthat he had received a home thrust. 

"There are two points, Mr. Harley, " he finally confessed, "almostcertainly associated one with the other, if you understand, but boththese so--shall I say remote?--from my life, that I hesitate tomention them. It seems fantastic to suppose that they contain a clue. "

"I beg of you, " said Harley, "to keep nothing back, however remote itmay appear to be. It is sometimes the seemingly remote things whichprove upon investigation to be the most intimate. "

"Very well, " resumed Colonel Menendez, beginning to roll a secondcigarette whilst continuing to smoke the first, "I know that you areright, of course, but it is nevertheless very difficult for me toexplain. I mentioned the attempted burglary, if so I may term it, inorder to clear your mind of the idea that my fears were a myth. Thenext point which I have concerns a man, a neighbour of mine in Surrey. Before I proceed I should like to make it clear that I do not believefor a moment that he is responsible for this unpleasant business. "

Harley stared at him curiously. "Nevertheless, " he said, "there must besome data in your possession which suggest to your mind that he hassome connection with it. "

"There are, Mr. Harley, but they belong to things so mystic and faraway from ordinary crime that I fear you will think me, " he shruggedhis great shoulders, "a man haunted by strange superstitions. Do yousay 'haunted?' Good. You understand. I should tell you, then, thatalthough of pure Spanish blood, I was born in Cuba. The greater part ofmy life has been spent in the West Indies, where prior to '98 I held anappointment under the Spanish Government. I have property, not only inCuba, but in some of the smaller islands which formerly were Spanish, and I shall not conceal from you that during the latter years of myadministration I incurred the enmity of a section of the population. DoI make myself clear?"

Paul Harley nodded and exchanged a swift glance with me. I formed arapid mental picture of native life under the governorship of ColonelJuan Menendez and I began to consider his story from a new viewpoint. Seemingly rendered restless by his reflections, he stood up and beganto pace the floor, a tall but curiously graceful figure. I noticed thebulldog tenacity of his chin, the intense pride in his bearing, and Iwondered what kind of menace had induced him to seek the aid of PaulHarley; for whatever his failings might be, and I could guess at thenature of several of them, that this thin-lipped Spanish soldier knewthe meaning of fear I was not prepared to believe. 

"Before you proceed further, Colonel Menendez, " said Harley, "might Iask when you left Cuba?"

"Some three years ago, " was his reply. "Because--" he hesitatedcuriously--"of health motives, I leased a property in England, believing that here I should find peace. "

"In other words, you were afraid of something or someone in Cuba?"

Colonel Menendez turned in a flash, glaring down at the speaker. 

"I never feared any man in my life, Mr. Harley, " he said, coldly. 

"Then why are you here?"

The Colonel placed the stump of his first cigarette in an ash tray andlighted that which he had newly made. 

"It is true, " he admitted. "Forgive me. Yet what I said was that Inever feared any man. "

He stood squarely in front of the Burmese cabinet, resting one handupon his hip. Then he added a remark which surprised me. 

"Do you know anything of Voodoo?" he asked. 

Paul Harley took his pipe from between his teeth and stared at thespeaker silently for a moment. "Voodoo?" he echoed. "You mean negromagic?"

"Exactly. "

"My studies have certainly not embraced it, " replied Harley, quietly, "nor has it hitherto come within my experience. But since I have livedmuch in the East, I am prepared to learn that Voodoo may not be anegligible quantity. There are forces at work in India which we inEngland improperly understand. The same may be true of Cuba. "

"The same _is_ true of Cuba. "

Colonel Menendez glared almost fiercely across the room at Paul Harley. 

"And do I understand, " asked the latter, "that the danger which youbelieve to threaten you is associated with Cuba?"

"That, Mr. Harley, is for you to decide when all the facts shall be inyour possession. Do you wish that I proceed?"

"By all means. I must confess that I am intensely interested. "

"Very well, Mr. Harley. I have something to show you. "

From an inside breast pocket Colonel Menendez drew out a gold-mountedcase, and from the case took some flat, irregularly shaped objectwrapped in a piece of tissue paper. Unfolding the paper, he strodeacross and laid the object which it had contained upon the blotting padin front of my friend. 

Impelled by curiosity I stood up and advanced to inspect it. It was ofa dirty brown colour, some five or six inches long, and appeared toconsist of a kind of membrane. Harley, his elbow on the table, wasstaring down at it questioningly. 

"What is it?" I said; "some kind of leaf?"

"No, " replied Harley, looking up into the dark face of the Spanishcolonel; "I think I know what it is. "

"I, also, know what it is. " declared Colonel Menendez, grimly. "Buttell me what to you it seems like, Mr. Harley?"

Paul Harley's expression was compounded of incredulity, wonder, andsomething else, as, continuing to stare at the speaker, he replied:

"It is the wing of a bat. "

CHAPTER II

THE VOODOO SWAMP

Often enough my memory has recaptured that moment in Paul Harley'soffice, when Harley, myself, and the tall Spaniard stood looking downat the bat wing lying upon the blotting pad. 

My brilliant friend at times displayed a sort of prescience, of which Imay have occasion to speak later, but I, together with the rest of pur-blind humanity, am commonly immune from the prophetic instinct. Therefore I chronicle the fact for what it may be worth, that as Igazed with a sort of disgust at the exhibit lying upon the table Ibecame possessed of a conviction, which had no logical basis, that adoor had been opened through which I should step into a new avenue ofbeing; I felt myself to stand upon the threshold of things strange andterrible, but withal alluring. Perhaps it is true that in the greatcrises of life the inner eye becomes momentarily opened. 

With intense curiosity I awaited the Colonel's next words, but, acigarette held nervously between his fingers, he stood staring atHarley, and it was the latter who broke that peculiar silence which hadfallen upon us. 

"The wing of a bat, " he murmured, then touched it gingerly. "Of whatkind of bat, Colonel Menendez? Surely not a British species?"

"But emphatically not a British species, " replied the Spaniard. "Yeteven so the matter would be strange. "

"I am all anxiety to learn the remainder of your story, ColonelMenendez. "

"Good. Your interest comforts me very greatly, Mr. Harley. But whenfirst I came, you led me to suppose that you were departing fromLondon?"

"Such, at the time, was my intention, sir. " Paul Harley smiledslightly. "Accompanied by my friend, Mr. Knox, I had proposed toindulge in a fortnight's fishing upon the Norfolk Broads. "

"Fishing?"

"Yes. "

"A peaceful occupation, Mr. Harley, and a great rest-cure for one wholike yourself moves much amid the fiercer passions of life. You wereabout to make holiday?"

Paul Harley nodded. 

"It is cruel of me to intrude upon such plans, " continued ColonelMenendez, dexterously rolling his cigarette around between his fingers. "Yet because of my urgent need I dare to do so. Would yourself and yourfriend honour me with your company at Cray's Folly for a few days? Ican promise you good entertainment, although I regret that there is nofishing; but it may chance that there will be other and more excitingsport. "

Harley glanced at me significantly. 

"Do I understand you to mean, Colonel Menendez, " he asked, "that youhave reason to believe that this conspiracy directed against you isabout to come to a head?"

Colonel Menendez nodded, at the same time bringing his hand downsharply upon the table. 

"Mr. Harley, " he replied, his high, thin voice sunken almost to awhisper, "Wednesday night is the night of the full moon. " 

"The full moon?"

"It is at the full moon that the danger comes. "

Paul Harley stood up, and watched by the Spanish colonel paced slowlyacross the office. At the outer door he paused and turned. 

"Colonel Menendez, " he said, "that you would willingly waste the timeof a busy man I do not for a moment believe, therefore I shall ask youas briefly as possible to state your case in detail. When I have heardit, if it appears to me that any good purpose can be served by myfriend and myself coming to Cray's Folly I feel sure that he will behappy to accept your proffered hospitality. "

"If I am likely to be of the slightest use I shall be delighted, " saidI, which indeed was perfectly true. 

Whilst I had willingly agreed to accompany Harley to Norfolk I had noneof his passion for the piscatorial art, and the promise of novelexcitement held out by Colonel Menendez appealed to me more keenly thanthe lazy days upon the roads which Harley loved. 

"Gentlemen"--the Colonel bowed profoundly--"I am honoured anddelighted. When you shall have heard my story I know what your decisionwill be. "

He resumed his seat, and began, it seemed almost automatically, to rolla fresh cigarette. 

"I am all attention, " declared Harley, and his glance strayed again ina wondering fashion to the bat wing lying on his table. 

"I will speak briefly, " resumed our visitor, "and any details which mayseem to you to be important can be discussed later when you are myguests. You must know then that I first became acquainted with thesignificance belonging to the term 'Bat Wing' and to the object itselfsome twenty years ago. "

"But surely, " interrupted Harley, incredulously, "you are not going totell me that the menace of which you complain is of twenty years'standing?"

"At your express request, Mr. Harley, " returned the Colonel a triflebrusquely, "I am dealing with possibilities which are remote, becausein your own words it is sometimes the remote which proves to be theintimate. It was then rather more than twenty years ago, at a time whengreat political changes were taking place in the West Indies, that mybusiness interests, which are mainly concerned with sugar, carried meto one of the smaller islands which had formerly been under--myjurisdiction, do you say? Here I had a house and estate, and here inthe past I had experienced much trouble with the natives. 

"I do not disguise from you that I was unpopular, and on my return Imet with unmistakable signs of hostility. My native workmen wereinsubordinate. In fact, it was the reports from my overseers which hadled me to visit the island. I made a tour of the place, believing it tobe necessary to my interests that I should get once more in touch withnegro feeling, since I had returned to my home in Cuba after theupheavals in '98. Very well. 

"The manager of my estate, a capable man, was of opinion that thereexisted a secret organization amongst the native labourers operating--you understand?--against my interests. He produced certain evidencesof this. They were not convincing; and all my enquiries andexaminations of certain inhabitants led to no definite results. Yet Igrew more and more to feel that enemies surrounded me. "

He paused to light his third cigarette, and whilst he did so I conjuredup a mental picture of his "examinations of certain inhabitants. " Irecalled hazily those stories of Spanish mismanagement and crueltywhich had directly led to United States interferences in the islands. But whilst I could well believe that this man's life had not been safein those bad old days in the West Indies, I found it difficult tosuppose that a native plot against his safety could have survived formore than twenty years and have come to a climax in England. However, Irealized that there was more to follow, and presently, having lightedhis cigarette, the Colonel resumed:

"In the neighbourhood of the hacienda which had once been my officialresidence there was a belt of low-lying pest country--you understandpest country?--which was a hot-bed of poisonous diseases. It followedthe winding course of a nearly stagnant creek. From the earliest timesthe Black Belt--it was so called--had been avoided by Europeaninhabitants, and indeed by the coloured population as well. Apart fromthe malaria of the swampy ground it was infested with reptiles and withpoisonous insects of a greater variety and of a more venomous characterthan I have ever known in any part of the world. 

"I must explain that what I regarded as a weak point in my manager'stheory was this: Whilst he held that the native labourers to a man werelinked together under some head, or guiding influence, he had neversucceeded in surprising anything in the nature of a negro meeting. Indeed, he had prohibited all gatherings of this kind. His answer to mycriticism was a curious one. He declared that the members of thismysterious society met and received their instructions at some placewithin the poison area to which I have referred, believing themselvesthere to be safe from European interference. 

"For a long time I disputed this with poor Valera--for such was mymanager's name; when one night as I was dismounting from my horsebefore the veranda, having returned from a long ride around the estate, a shot was fired from the border of the Black Belt which at one pointcrept up dangerously close to the hacienda. 

"The shot was a good one. I had caught my spur in the stirrup indismounting, and stumbled. Otherwise I must have been a dead man. Thebullet pierced the crown of my hat, only missing my skull by an inch orless. The alarm was given. But no search-party could be mustered, doyou say?--which was prepared to explore the poison swamp--or sodeclared my native servants. Valera, however, seized upon this incidentto illustrate his theory that there were those in the island who didnot hesitate to enter the Black Belt popularly supposed to cast upnoxious vapours at dusk of a sort fatal to any traveller. 

"That night over our wine we discussed the situation, and he pointedout to me that now was the hour to test his theory. Orders hadevidently been given for my assassination and the attempt had failed. 

"'There will be a meeting, ' said Valera, 'to discuss the next move. Andit will take place to-morrow night!'

"I challenged him with a glance and I replied:

"'To-morrow night is a full moon, and if you are agreeable we will makea secret expedition into the swamp, and endeavour to find the clearingwhich you say is there, and which you believe to be the rendezvous ofthe conspirators. '

"Even in the light of the lamp I saw Valera turn pale, but he was aSpaniard and a man of courage. 

"'I agree, señor, ' he replied. 'If my information is correct we shallfind the way. '

"I must explain that the information to which he referred had beensupplied by a native girl who loved him. That this clearing was ameeting-place she had denied. But she had admitted that it was possibleto obtain access to it, and had even described the path. " He paused. "She died of a lingering sickness. "

Colonel Menendez spoke these last words with great deliberation andtreated each of us to a long and significant stare. 

"Presently, " he added, "I will tell you what was nailed to the wall ofher hut on the night that she fell ill. But to continue my narrative. On the following evening, suitably equipped, Valera and myself set out, leaving by a side door and striking into the woods at a point east ofthe hacienda, where, according to his information, a footpath existed, which would lead us to the clearing we desired to visit. Of thatjourney, gentlemen, I have most terrible memories. 

"Imagine a dense and poisonous jungle, carpeted by rotten vegetation inwhich one's feet sank deeply and from which arose a visible andstenching vapour. Imagine living things, slimy things, moving beneaththe tread, sometimes coiling about our riding boots, sometimes makinghissing sounds. Imagine places where the path was overgrown, and wemust thrust our way through bushes where great bloated spiders weavedtheir webs, where clammy night things touched us as we passed, whereunfamiliar and venomous insects clung to our garments. 

"We proceeded onward for more than half an hour guided by themoonlight, but this, although tropically brilliant, at some placesscarcely penetrated the thick vapour which arose from the jungle. Inthose days I was a young and vigorous man; my companion was severalyears my senior; and his sufferings were far greater than my own. Butif the jungle was horrible, worse was yet to come. 

"Presently we stumbled upon an open space almost quite bare ofvegetation, a poisonous green carpet spread in the heart of the woods. Here the vapour was more dense than ever, but I welcomed the sight ofopen ground after the reptile-infested thicket. Alas! it was a snare, adeath-trap, a sort of morass, in which we sank up to our knees. Pah! itwas filthy--vile! And I became aware of great--lassitude, do you say?--whilst Valera's panting breath told that he had almost reached the endof his resources. 

"A faint breeze moved through the clearing and for a few moments wewere enabled to perceive one another more distinctly. I uttered anexclamation of horror. 

"My companion's garments were a mass of strange-looking patches. 

"Even as I noticed them I glanced rapidly down--and found myself insimilar condition. As I did so one of these patches upon the sleeve ofmy tunic intruded coldly upon my bare wrist. At that I cried out aloudin fear. Valera and I commenced what was literally a fight for life. 

"Gentlemen, we were attacked by some kind of blood-red leeches, whichcame out of the slime! In detaching them one detached patches of skin, and they swarmed over our bodies like ants upon carrion. 

"They penetrated beneath our garments, these swollen, lustful, uncleanthings; and it was whilst we staggered on through the swamp in agony ofmind and body that we saw the light of many torches amid the treesahead of us, and in their smoky glare witnessed the flight of hundredsof bats. The moonlight creeping dimly through the mist, and thetorchlight--how do you say?--enflaming the vegetation, created a scenelike that of Inferno, in which naked figures danced wildly, utteringanimal cries. 

"Above the shrieking and howling, which rose and fell in a sort ofunholy chorus, I heard one long, wailing sound, repeated and repeated. It was an African word. But I knew its meaning. 

"It was '_Bat Wing_!'

"My doubts were dispersed. This was a meeting-place of Devil-worshippers, or devotees of the cult of Voodoo! One man only could Isee clearly so as to remember him, a big negro employed upon one of myestates. He seemed to be a sort of high priest or president of theorgies. Attached to his arms were giant imitations of bat wings whichhe moved grotesquely as if in flight. There were many women in thethrong, which numbered fully I should think a hundred people. But thefinal collapse of my brave, unhappy Valera at this point brought hometo me the nature of the peril in which I stood. 

"He lay at my feet, moving convulsively, and sinking ever deeper in theswamp, red leeches moving slowly, slowly over his fast-disappearingbody. "

Colonel Menendez paused in his appalling narrative and wiped his moistforehead with a silk handkerchief. Neither Harley nor I spoke. I knewnot if my friend believed the Spaniard's story. For my own part I foundit difficult to do so. But that the narrator was deeply moved was afact beyond dispute. 

He suddenly commenced again:

"My next recollection is of awakening in my own bed at the hacienda. Ihad staggered back as far as the veranda, in raving delirium, and inthe grip of a strange fever which prostrated me for many months, andwhich defied the knowledge of all the specialists who could be procuredfrom Cuba and the United States. My survival was due to an ironconstitution; but I have never been the same man. I was ordered toleave the West Indies directly it became possible for me to be moved. Iarranged my affairs accordingly, and did not return for many years. 

"Finally, however, I again took up my residence in Cuba, and for a timeall went well, and might have continued to do so, but for the followingincident. One night, being troubled by insomnia--sleeplessness--and theheat, I walked out on to the balcony in front of my bedroom window. AsI did so, a figure which had been--you say lurking?--somewhere underthe veranda ran swiftly off; but not so swiftly that I failed to obtaina glimpse of the uplifted face. 

"It was the big negro! Although many years had elapsed since I had seenhim wearing the bat wings at those unholy rites, I knew him instantly. 

"On a little table close behind me where I stood lay a loaded revolver. I snatched it in a flash and fired shot after shot at the retreatingfigure. "

Colonel Menendez shrugged his shoulders and selected a fresh cigarettepaper. 

"Gentlemen, " he continued, "from that moment until this I have gone inhourly peril of my life. Whether I hit my man or missed him, I havenever known to this day. If he lives or is dead I cannot say. But--" hepaused impressively--"I have told you of something that was nailed tothe hut of a certain native girl? Before she died I knew that it was adeath-token. 

"On the morning after the episode which I have just related attached tothe main door of the hacienda was found that same token. "

"And it was??" said Harley, eagerly. 

"It was the wing of a bat!

"I am perhaps a hasty man. It is in my blood. I tore the unclean thingfrom the panel and stamped it under my feet. No one of the servants whohad drawn my attention to its presence would consent to touch it. Indeed, they all shrank from me as though I, too, were unclean. Iendeavoured to forget it. Who was I to be influenced by the threats ofnatives?

"That night, just at the hour of sunset, a shot was fired at me from aneighbouring clump of trees, only missing me I think by the fraction ofan inch. I realized that the peril was real, and was one against whichI could not fight. 

"Permit me to be brief, gentlemen. Six attempts of various kinds weremade upon my life in Cuba. I crossed to the United States. InWashington, the political capital of the country, an assassin gainedaccess to my hotel apartment and but for the fact that a friend chancedto call me up on the telephone at that late hour of the night, therebyawakening me, I should have received a knife in my heart. I saw theknife in the dim light; I saw the shadowy figure. I leapt out on theopposite side of the bed, seized a table-lamp which stood there, andhurled it at my assailant. 

"There was a crash, a stifled exclamation, shuffling, the door opened, and my would-be assassin was gone. But I had learned something, and tomy old fears a new one was added. "

"What had you learned?" asked Harley, whose interest in the narrativewas displayed by the fact that his pipe had long since gone out. 

"Vaguely, vaguely, you understand, for there was little light, I hadseen the face of the man. He wore some kind of black cloak doubtless toconceal his movements. His silhouette resembled that of a bat. But, gentlemen, he was neither a negro nor even a half-caste; he was of thewhite races, to that I could swear. "

Colonel Menendez lighted the cigarette which he had been busilyrolling, and fixed his dark eyes upon Harley. 

"You puzzle me, sir, " said the latter. "Do you wish me to believe thatthis cult of Voodoo claims European or American devotees?"

"I wish you to believe, " returned the Colonel, "that although as theresult of the alarm which I gave the hotel was searched and theWashington police exerted themselves to the utmost, no trace was everfound of the man who had tried to murder me, except"--he extended along, yellow forefinger, and pointed to the wing of the bat lying uponHarley's table--"a bat wing was found pinned to my bedroom door. "

Silence fell for a while; an impressive silence. Truly this was thestrangest story to which I had ever listened. 

"How long ago was that?" asked Harley. 

"Only two years ago. At about the time that the great war terminated. Icame to Europe and believed that at last I had found security. I livedfor a time in London amidst a refreshing peace that was new to me. Then, chancing to hear of a property in Surrey which was available, Ileased it for a period of years, installing--is it correct?--my cousin, Madame de Stämer, as housekeeper. Madame, alas, is an invalid, but"--hekissed his fingers--"a genius. She has with her, as companion, a verycharming English girl, Miss Val Beverley, the orphaned daughter of adistinguished surgeon of Edinburg. Miss Beverley was with my cousin inthe hospital which she established in France during the war. If youwill honour me with your presence at Cray's Folly to-morrow, gentlemen, you will not lack congenial company, I can assure you. "

He raised his heavy eyebrows, looking interrogatively from Harley tomyself. 

"For my own part, " said my friend, slowly, "I shall be delighted. Whatdo you say, Knox?"

"I also. "

"But, " continued Harley, "your presence here today, Colonel Menendez, suggests to my mind that England has not proved so safe a haven as youhad anticipated?"

Colonel Menendez crossed the room and stood once more before theBurmese cabinet, one hand resting upon his hip; a massive yet gracefulfigure. 

"Mr. Harley, " he replied, "four days ago my butler, who is a Spaniard, brought me--" He pointed to the bat wing lying upon the blotting pad. "He had found it pinned to an oaken panel of the main entrance door. "

"Was it prior to this discovery, or after it, " asked Harley, "that youdetected the presence of someone lurking in the neighbourhood of thehouse?"

"Before it. "

"And the burglarious entrance?"

"That took place rather less than a month ago. On the eve of the fullmoon. "

Paul Harley stood up and relighted his pipe. 

"There are quite a number of other details, Colonel, " he said, "which Ishall require you to place in my possession. Since I have determined tovisit Cray's Folly, these can wait until my arrival. I particularlyrefer to a remark concerning a neighbour of yours in Surrey. "

Colonel Menendez nodded, twirling his cigarette between his long, yellow fingers. 

"It is a delicate matter, gentlemen, " he confessed. 

"I must take time to consider how I shall place it before you. But Imay count upon your arrival tomorrow?"

"Certainly. I am looking forward to the visit with keen interest. "

"It is important, " declared our visitor; "for on Wednesday is the fullmoon, and the full moon is in some way associated with the sacrificialrites of Voodoo. "

CHAPTER III

THE VAMPIRE BAT

An hour had elapsed since the departure of our visitor, and Paul Harleyand I sat in the cosy, book-lined study discussing the strange storywhich had been related to us. Harley, who had a friend attached to theSpanish Embassy, had succeeded in getting in touch with him at hischambers, and had obtained some few particulars of interest concerningColonel Don Juan Sarmiento Menendez, for such were the full names andtitles of our late caller. 

He was apparently the last representative of a once great Spanishfamily, established for many generations in Cuba. His wealth wasincalculable, although the value of his numerous estates haddepreciated in recent years. His family had produced many men of subtleintellect and powerful administrative qualities; but allied to thisthey had all possessed traits of cruelty and debauchery which at onetime had made the name of Menendez a by-word in the West Indies. Thatthere were many people in that part of the world who would gladly haveassassinated the Colonel, Paul Harley's informant did not deny. Butalthough this information somewhat enlarged our knowledge of myfriend's newest client, it threw no fresh light upon that side of hisstory which related to Voodoo and the extraordinary bat wing episodes. 

"Of course, " said Harley, after a long silence, "there is onepossibility of which we must not lose sight. "

"What possibility is that?" I asked. 

"That Menendez may be mad. Remorse for crimes of cruelty committed inhis youth, and beyond doubt he has been guilty of many, may have led toa sort of obsession. I have known such cases. "

"That was my first impression, " I confessed, "but it faded somewhat asthe Colonel's story proceeded. I don't think any such explanation wouldcover the facts. "

"Neither do I, " agreed my friend; "but it is distinctly possible thatsuch an obsession exists, and that someone is deliberately playing uponit for his own ends. "

"You mean that someone who knows of these episodes in the earlier lifeof Menendez is employing them now for a secret purpose of his own?"

"Exactly. "

"It renders the case none the less interesting. "

"I quite agree, Knox. With you, I believe, that even if the Colonel isnot quite sane, at the same time his fears are by no means imaginary. "

He gingerly took up the bat wing from the arm of his chair where he hadplaced it after a detailed examination. 

"It seems to be pretty certain, " he said, "that this thing is the wingof a Desmodus or Vampire Bat. Now, according to our authority"--hetouched a work which lay open on the other arm of his chair--"these arenatives of tropical America, therefore the presence of a living vampirebat in Surrey is not to be anticipated. I am personally satisfied, however, that this unpleasant fragment has been preserved in some way. "

"You mean that it is part of a specimen from someone's collection?"

"Quite possibly. But even a collection of such bats would be quite anovelty. I don't know that I can recollect one outside the Museums. Tofollow this bat wing business further: there was one very curious pointin the Colonel's narrative. You recollect his reference to a nativegirl who had betrayed certain information to the manager of theestate?"

I nodded rapidly. 

"A bat wing was affixed to the wall of her hut and she died, accordingto our informant, of a lingering sickness. Now this lingering sicknessmight have been anæmia, and anæmia may be induced, either in man orbeast, by frequent but unsuspected visits of a Vampire Bat. "

"Good heavens, Harley!" I exclaimed, "what a horrible idea. "

"It _is_ a horrible idea, but in countries infested by these creaturessuch things happen occasionally. I distinctly recollect a story which Ionce heard, of a little girl in some district of tropical Americafalling into such a decline, from which she was only rescued inthe nick of time by the discovery that one of these Vampire Bats, aparticularly large one, had formed the habit of flying into her room atnight and attaching itself to her bare arm which lay outside thecoverlet. "

"How did it penetrate the mosquito curtains?" I enquired, incredulously. 

"The very point, Knox, which led to the discovery of the truth. Thething, exhibiting a sort of uncanny intelligence, used to work itsway up under the edge of the netting. This disturbance of the curtainswas noticed on several occasions by the nurse who occupied anadjoining room, and finally led to the detection of the bat!"

"But surely, " I said, "such a visitation would awaken any sleeper?"

"On the contrary, it induces deeper sleep. But I have not yet come tomy point, Knox. The vengeance of the High Priest of Voodoo, who figuredin the Colonel's narrative, was characteristic in the case of thenative woman, since her symptoms at least simulated those which wouldresult from the visits of a Vampire Bat, although of course they mayhave been due to a slow poison. But you will not have failed to notethat the several attacks upon the Colonel personally were made withmore ordinary weapons. On two occasions at least a rifle was employed. "

"Yes, " I replied, slowly. "You are wondering why the lingering sicknessdid not visit him?"

"I am, Knox. I can only suppose that he proved to be immune. You recallhis statement that he made an almost miraculous recovery from the feverwhich attacked him after his visit to the Black Belt? This would seemto point to the fact that he possesses that rare type of constitutionwhich almost defies organisms deadly to ordinary men. "

"I see. Hence the dagger and the rifle?"

"So it would appear. "

"But, Harley, " I cried, "what appalling crime can the man havecommitted to call down upon his head a vengeance which has survivedfor so many years?"

Paul Harley shrugged his shoulders in a whimsical imitation of theSpaniard. 

"I doubt if the feud dates any earlier, " he replied, "than the time ofMenendez's last return to Cuba. On that occasion he evidently killedthe High Priest of Voodoo. "

I uttered an exclamation of scorn. 

"My dear Harley, " I said, "the whole thing is too utterly fantastic. Ibegin to believe again that we are dealing with a madman. "

Harley glanced down at the wing of the bat. 

"We shall see, " he murmured. "Even if the only result of our visit isto make the acquaintance of the Colonel's household our time will nothave been wasted. "

"No, " said I, "that is true enough. I am looking forward to meetingMadame de Stämer--"

"The Colonel's invalid cousin, " added Harley, tonelessly. 

"And her companion, Miss Beverley. "

"Quite so. Nor must we forget the Spanish butler, and the Colonelhimself, whose acquaintance I am extremely anxious to renew. "

"The whole thing is wildly bizarre, Harley. "

"My dear Knox, " he replied, stretching himself luxuriously in the longlounge chair, "the most commonplace life hovers on the edge of thebizarre. But those of us who overstep the border become preposterous inthe eyes of those who have never done so. This is not because theunusual is necessarily the untrue, but because writers of fiction haveclaimed the unusual as their particular province, and in doing so havedivorced it from fact in the public eye. Thus I, myself, am a myth, andso are you, Knox!"

He raised his hand and pointed to the doorway communicating with theoffice. 

"We owe our mythological existence to that American genius whoseportrait hangs beside the Burmese cabinet and who indiscreetly createdthe character of C. Auguste Dupin. The doings of this amateurinvestigator were chronicled by an admirer, you may remember, sincewhen no private detective has been allowed to exist outside the pagesof fiction. My most trivial habits confirm my unreality. 

"For instance, I have a friend who is good enough sometimes to recordmy movements. So had Dupin. I smoke a pipe. So did Dupin. I investigatecrime, and I am sometimes successful. Here I differ from Dupin. Dupinwas always successful. But my argument is this--you complain that thelife of Colonel Don Juan Sarmiento Menendez, on his own showing, hasbeen at least as romantic as his name. It would not be accountedromantic by the adventurous, Knox; it is only romantic to the prosaicmind. In the same way his name is only unusual to our English ears. InSpain it would pass unnoticed. "

"I see your point, " I said, grudgingly; "but think of I Voodoo in theSurrey Hills. "

"I am thinking of it, Knox, and it affords me much delight to think ofit. You have placed your finger I upon the very point I wasendeavouring to make. Voodoo in the Surrey Hills! Quite so. Voodoo insome island of the Caribbean Seas, yes, but Voodoo in the Surrey Hills, no. Yet, my dear fellow, there is a regular steamer service betweenSouth America and England. Or one may embark at Liverpool and disembarkin the Spanish Main. Why, then, may not one embark in the West Indiesand disembark at Liverpool? This granted, you will also grant that fromLiverpool to Surrey is a feasible journey. Why, then, should youexclaim, 'but Voodoo in the Surrey Hills!' You would be surprised tomeet an Esquimaux in the Strand, but there is no reason why anEsquimaux should not visit the Strand. In short, the most annoyingthing about fact is its resemblance to fiction. I am looking forward tothe day, Knox, when I can retire from my present fictitious professionand become a recognized member of the community; such as a press agent, a theatrical manager, or some other dealer in Fact!"

He burst out laughing, and reaching over to a side-table refilled myglass and his own. 

"There lies the wing of a Vampire Bat, " he said, pointing, "in ChanceryLane. It is impossible. Yet, " he raised his glass, "'Pussyfoot' Johnsonhas visited Scotland, the home of Whisky!"

We were silent for a while, whilst I considered his remarks. 

"The conclusion to which I have come, " declared Harley, "is thatnothing is so strange as the commonplace. A rod and line, a boat, aluncheon hamper, a jar of good ale, and the peculiar peace of a Norfolkriver--these joys I willingly curtail in favour of the unknown thingswhich await us at Cray's Folly. Remember, Knox, " he stared at mequeerly, "Wednesday is the night of the full moon. "

CHAPTER IV

CRAY'S FOLLY

Paul Harley lay back upon the cushions and glanced at me with aquizzical smile. The big, up-to-date car which Colonel Menendez hadplaced at our disposal was surmounting a steep Surrey lane as though nogradient had existed. 

"Some engine!" he said, approvingly. 

I nodded in agreement, but felt disinclined for conversation, beingabsorbed in watching the characteristically English scenery. This, indeed, was very beautiful. The lane along which we were speeding wasnarrow, winding, and over-arched by trees. Here and there sunlightpenetrated to spread a golden carpet before us, but for the most partthe way lay in cool and grateful shadow. 

On one side a wooded slope hemmed us in blackly, on the other lay dellafter dell down into the cradle of the valley. It was a poetic cornerof England, and I thought it almost unbelievable that London was onlysome twenty miles behind. A fit place this for elves and fairies tosurvive, a spot in which the presence of a modern automobile seemed adesecration. Higher we mounted and higher, the engine running stronglyand smoothly; then, presently, we were out upon a narrow open road withthe crescent of the hills sweeping away on the right and dense woodsdipping valleyward to the left and behind us. 

The chauffeur turned, and, meeting my glance:

"Cray's Folly, sir, " he said. 

He jerked his hand in the direction of a square, gray-stone towersomewhat resembling a campanile, which uprose from a distant clump ofwoods cresting a greater eminence. 

"Ah, " murmured Harley, "the famous tower. "

Following the departure of the Colonel on the previous evening, he hadlooked up Cray's Folly and had found it to be one of a series of houseserected by the eccentric and wealthy man whose name it bore. He had hada mania for building houses with towers, in which his rival--andcontemporary--had been William Beckford, the author of "Vathek, " a workwhich for some obscure reason has survived as well as two of the threetowers erected by its writer. 

I became conscious of a keen sense of anticipation. In this, I think, the figure of Miss Val Beverley played a leading part. There wassomething pathetic in the presence of this lonely English girl in sosingular a household; for if the menage at Cray's Folly should provehalf so strange as Colonel Menendez had led us to believe, then trulywe were about to find ourselves amid unusual people. 

Presently the road inclined southward somewhat and we entered thefringe of the trees. I noticed one or two very ancient cottages, but notrace of the modern builder. This was a fragment of real Old England, and I was not sorry when presently we lost sight of the square tower;for amidst such scenery it was an anomaly and a rebuke. 

What Paul Harley's thoughts may have been I cannot say, but hepreserved an unbroken silence up to the very moment that we came to thegate lodge. 

The gates were monstrosities of elaborate iron scrollwork, craftsmanship clever enough in its way, but of an ornate kind more inkeeping with the orange trees of the South than with this wooded Surreycountryside. 

A very surly-looking girl, quite obviously un-English (a daughter ofPedro, the butler, I learned later), opened the gates, and we enteredupon a winding drive literally tunnelled through the trees. Of thehouse we had never a glimpse until we were right under its walls, norshould I have known that we were come to the main entrance if the carhad not stopped. 

"Looks like a monastery, " muttered Harley. 

Indeed that part of the building--the north front--which was visiblefrom this point had a strangely monastic appearance, being built ofsolid gray blocks and boasting only a few small, heavily barredwindows. The eccentricity of the Victorian gentleman who had expendedthousands of pounds upon erecting this house was only equalled, Ithought, by that of Colonel Menendez, who had chosen it for a home. Anout-jutting wing shut us in on the west, and to the east the prospectwas closed by the tallest and most densely grown box hedge I had everseen, trimmed most perfectly and having an arched opening in thecentre. Thus, the entrance to Cray's Folly lay in a sort of bay. 

But even as we stepped from the car, the great church-like oaken doorswere thrown open, and there, framed in the monkish porch, stood thetall, elegant figure of the Colonel. 

"Gentlemen, " he cried, "welcome to Cray's Folly. "

He advanced smiling, and in the bright sunlight seemed even moreMephistophelean than he had seemed in Harley's office. 

"Pedro, " he called, and a strange-looking Spanish butler who wore hisside-whiskers like a bull fighter appeared behind his master; a sallow, furtive fellow with whom I determined I should never feel at ease. 

However, the Colonel greeted us heartily enough, and conducted usthrough a kind of paved, covered courtyard into a great lofty hall. Indeed it more closely resembled a studio, being partly lighted by amost curious dome. It was furnished in a manner quite un-English, butvery luxuriously. A magnificent oaken staircase communicated with agallery on the left, and at the foot of this staircase, in a mechanicalchair which she managed with astonishing dexterity, sat Madame deStämer. 

She had snow-white hair crowning the face of a comparatively youngwoman, and large, dark-brown eyes which reminded me strangely of theeyes of some animal although in the first moment of meeting I could notidentify the resemblance. Her hands were very slender and beautiful, and when, as the Colonel presented us, she extended her fingers, I wasnot surprised to see Harley stoop and kiss them in Continental fashion;for this Madame evidently expected. I followed suit; but truth to tell, after that first glance at the masterful figure in the invalid chair Ihad had no eyes for Madame de Stämer, being fully employed in gazing atsomeone who stood beside her. 

This was an evasively pretty girl, or such was my first impression. That is to say, that whilst her attractiveness was beyond dispute, analysis of her small features failed to detect from which particularquality this charm was derived. The contour of her face certainlyformed a delightful oval, and there was a wistful look in her eyeswhich was half appealing and half impish. Her demure expression was notconvincing, and there rested a vague smile, or promise of a smile, uponlips which were perfectly moulded, and indeed the only strictly regularfeature of a nevertheless bewitching face. She had slightly curlinghair and the line of her neck and shoulder was most graceful andcharming. Of one thing I was sure: She was glad to see visitors atCray's Folly. 

"And now, gentlemen, " said Colonel Menendez, "having presented you toMadame, my cousin, permit me to present you to Miss Val Beverley, mycousin's companion, and our very dear friend. "

The girl bowed in a formal English fashion, which contrasted sharplywith the Continental manner of Madame. Her face flushed slightly, andas I met her glance she lowered her eyes. 

"Now M. Harley and M. Knox, " said Madame, vivaciously, "you are quiteat home. Pedro will show you to your rooms and lunch will be ready inhalf an hour. "

She waved her white hand coquettishly, and ignoring the proffered aidof Miss Beverley, wheeled her chair away at a great rate under a sortof arch on the right of the hall, which communicated with the domesticoffices of the establishment. 

"Is she not wonderful?" exclaimed Colonel Menendez, taking Harley'sleft arm and my right and guiding us upstairs followed by Pedro and thechauffeur, the latter carrying our grips. "Many women would beprostrated by such an affliction, but she--" he shrugged his shoulders. 

Harley and I had been placed in adjoining rooms. I had never seen suchrooms as those in Cray's Folly. The place contained enough oak to havedriven a modern builder crazy. Oak had simply been lavished upon it. Myown room, which was almost directly above the box hedge to which I havereferred, had a beautiful carved ceiling and a floor as highly polishedas that of a ballroom. It was tastefully furnished, but the foreignnote was perceptible everywhere. 

"We have here some grand prospects, " said the Colonel, and truly enoughthe view from the great, high, wide window was a very fine one. 

I perceived that the grounds of Cray's Folly were extensive andcarefully cultivated. I had a glimpse of a Tudor sunken garden, but thebest view of this was from the window of Harley's room, which becauseit was the end room on the north front overlooked another part of thegrounds, and offered a prospect of the east lawns and distant parkland. 

When presently Colonel Menendez and I accompanied my friend there I wascharmed by the picturesque scene below. Here was a real old herbalgarden, gay with flowers and intersected by tiled moss-grown paths. There were bushes exhibiting fantastic examples of the topiary art, andhere, too, was a sun-dial. My first impression of this beautiful spotwas one of delight. Later I was to regard that enchanted demesne withsomething akin to horror; but as we stood there watching a gardenerclipping the bushes I thought that although Cray's Folly might beadjudged ugly, its grounds were delightful. 

Suddenly Harley turned to our host. "Where is the famous tower?" heenquired. "It is not visible from the front of the house, nor from thedrive. "

"No, no, " replied the Colonel, "it is right out at the end of the eastwing, which is disused. I keep it locked up. There are four rooms inthe tower and a staircase, of course, but it is inconvenient. I cannotimagine why it was built. "

"The architect may have had some definite object in view, " said Harley, "or it may have been merely a freak of his client. Is there anythingcharacteristic about the topmost room, for instance?"

Colonel Menendez shrugged his massive shoulders. "Nothing, " hereplied. "It is the same as the others below, except that there is astair leading to a gallery on the roof. Presently I will take you up, if you wish. "

"I should be interested, " murmured Harley, and tactfully changed thesubject, which evidently was not altogether pleasing to our host. Iconcluded that he had found the east wing of the house something of awhite elephant, and was accordingly sensitive upon the point. 

Presently, then, he left us and I returned to my own room, but beforelong I rejoined Harley. I did not knock but entered unceremoniously. 

"Halloa!" I exclaimed. "What have you seen?"

He was standing staring out of the window, nor did he turn as Ientered. 

"What is it?" I said, joining him. 

He glanced at me oddly. 

"An impression, " he replied; "but it has gone now. "

"I understand, " I said, quietly. 

Familiarity with crime in many guises and under many skies haddeveloped in Paul Harley a sort of sixth sense. It was a fugitive, fickle thing, as are all the powers which belong to the realm of geniusor inspiration. Often enough it failed him entirely, he had assured me, that odd, sudden chill as of an abrupt lowering of the temperature, which, I understood, often advised him of the nearness of enmityactively malignant. 

Now, standing at the window, looking down into that old-world garden, he was "sensing" the atmosphere keenly, seeking for the note of danger. It was sheer intuition, perhaps, but whilst he could never rely uponits answering his summons, once active it never misled him. 

"You think some real menace overhangs Colonel Menendez?"

"I am sure of it. " He stared into my face. "There is something very, very strange about this bat wing business. "

"Do you still incline to the idea that he has been followed toEngland?"

Paul Harley reflected for a moment, then:

"That explanation would be almost too simple, " he said. "There issomething bizarre, something unclean--I had almost said unholy--at workin this house, Knox. "

"He has foreign servants. "

Harley shook his head. 

"I shall make it my business to become acquainted with all of them, " hereplied, "but the danger does not come from there. Let us go down tolunch. "

CHAPTER V

VAL BEVERLEY

The luncheon was so good as to be almost ostentatious. One could nothave lunched better at the Carlton. Yet, since this luxurious livingwas evidently customary in the colonel's household, a charge ofostentation would not have been deserved. The sinister-looking Pedroproved to be an excellent servant; and because of the excitement offeeling myself to stand upon the edge of unusual things, the enjoymentof a perfectly served repast, and the sheer delight which I experiencedin watching the play of expression upon the face of Miss Beverley, Icount that luncheon at Cray's Folly a memorable hour of my life. 

Frankly, Val Beverley puzzled me. It may or may not have been curious, that amidst such singular company I selected for my especial study agirl so freshly and typically English. I had thought at the moment ofmeeting her that she was provokingly pretty; I determined, as the lunchproceeded, that she was beautiful. Once I caught Harley smiling at mein his quizzical fashion, and I wondered guiltily if I were displayingan undue interest in the companion of Madame. 

Many topics were discussed, I remember, and beyond doubt the colonel'scousin-housekeeper dominated the debate. She possessed extraordinaryforce of personality. Her English was not nearly so fluent as thatspoken by the colonel, but this handicap only served to emphasize themasculine strength of her intellect. Truly she was a remarkable woman. With her blanched hair and her young face, and those fine, velvety eyeswhich possessed a quality almost hypnotic, she might have posed for thefigure of a sorceress. She had unfamiliar gestures and employed herlong white hands in a manner that was new to me and utterly strange. 

I could detect no family resemblance between the cousins, and Iwondered if their kinship were very distant. One thing was evidentenough: Madame de Stämer was devoted to the Colonel. Her expressionwhen she looked at him changed entirely. For a woman of such intensevitality her eyes were uncannily still; that is to say that whilst shefrequently moved her head she rarely moved her eyes. Again and again Ifound myself wondering where I had seen such eyes before. I lived toidentify that memory, as I shall presently relate. 

In vain I endeavoured to define the relationship between these threepeople, so incongruously set beneath one roof. Of the fact that MissBeverly was not happy I became assured. But respecting her exactposition in the household I was reduced to surmises. 

The Colonel improved on acquaintance. I decided that he belonged to anorder of Spanish grandees now almost extinct. I believed he would havemade a very staunch friend; I felt sure he would have proved a mostimplacable enemy. Altogether, it was a memorable meal, and one notableresult of that brief companionship was a kind of link of understandingbetween myself and Miss Beverley. 

Once, when I had been studying Madame de Stämer, and again, as Iremoved my glance from the dark face of Colonel Menendez, I detectedthe girl watching me; and her eyes said, "You understand; so do I. "

Some things perhaps I did understand, but how few the near future wasto show. 

The signal for our departure from table was given by Madame de Stämer. She whisked her chair back with extraordinary rapidity, the contrastbetween her swift, nervous movements and those still, basilisk eyesbeing almost uncanny. 

"Off you go, Juan, " she said; "your visitors would like to see thegarden, no doubt. I must be away for my afternoon siesta. Come, mydear"--to the girl--"smoke one little cigarette with me, then I willlet you go. "

She retired, wheeling herself rapidly out of the room, and my glancelingered upon the graceful figure of Val Beverley until both she andMadame were out of sight. 

"Now, gentlemen, " said the Colonel, resuming his seat and pushing thedecanter toward Paul Harley, "I am at your service either for businessor amusement. I think"--to Harley--"you expressed a desire to see thetower?"

"I did, " my friend replied, lighting his cigar, "but only if it wouldamuse you to show me. "

"Decidedly. Mr. Knox will join us?"

Harley, unseen by the Colonel, glanced at me in a way which I knew. 

"Thanks all the same, " I said, smiling, "but following a perfectluncheon I should much prefer to loll upon the lawn, if you don'tmind. "

"But certainly I do not mind, " cried the Colonel. "I wish you to behappy. "

"Join you in a few minutes, Knox, " said Harley as he went out with ourhost. 

"All right, " I replied, "I should like to take a stroll around thegardens. You will join me there later, no doubt. "

As I walked out into the bright sunshine I wondered why Paul Harley hadwished to be left alone with Colonel Menendez, but knowing that Ishould learn his motive later, I strolled on through the gardens, mymind filled with speculations respecting these unusual people with whomFate had brought me in contact. I felt that Miss Beverley neededprotection of some kind, and I was conscious of a keen desire to affordher that protection. In her glance I had read, or thought I had read, an appeal for sympathy. 

Not the least mystery of Cray's Folly was the presence of this girl. Only toward the end of luncheon had I made up my mind upon a pointwhich had been puzzling me. Val Beverley's gaiety was a cloak. Once Ihad detected her watching Madame de Stämer with a look strangely likethat of fear. 

Puffing contentedly at my cigar I proceeded to make a tour of thehouse. It was constructed irregularly. Practically the entire buildingwas of gray stone, which created a depressing effect even in theblazing sunlight, lending Cray's Folly something of an austere aspect. There were fine lofty windows, however, to most of the ground-floorrooms overlooking the lawns, and some of those above had balconies ofthe same gray stone. Quite an extensive kitchen garden and a line ofglasshouses adjoined the west wing, and here were outbuildings, coach-houses and a garage, all connected by a covered passage with theservants' quarters. 

Pursuing my enquiries, I proceeded to the north front of the building, which was closely hemmed in by trees, and which as we had observed onour arrival resembled the entrance to a monastery. 

Passing the massive oaken door by which we had entered and which wasnow closed again, I walked on through the opening in the box hedge intoa part of the grounds which was not so sprucely groomed as the rest. Onone side were the yews flanking the Tudor garden and before me uprosethe famous tower. As I stared up at the square structure, with itsuncurtained windows, I wondered, as others had wondered before me, whatcould have ever possessed any man to build it. 

Visible at points for many miles around, it undoubtedly disfigured anotherwise beautiful landscape. 

I pressed on, noting that the windows of the rooms in the east wingwere shuttered and the apartments evidently disused. I came to the baseof the tower, To the south, the country rose up to the highest point inthe crescent of hills, and peeping above the trees at no great distanceaway, I detected the red brick chimneys of some old house in the woods. North and east, velvet sward swept down to the park. 

As I stood there admiring the prospect and telling myself that noVoodoo devilry could find a home in this peaceful English countryside, I detected a faint sound of voices far above. Someone had evidentlycome out upon the gallery of the tower. I looked upward, but I couldnot see the speakers. I pursued my stroll, until, near the eastern baseof the tower, I encountered a perfect thicket of rhododendrons. Findingno path through this shrubbery, I retraced my steps, presently enteringthe Tudor garden; and there strolling toward me, a book in her hand, was Miss Beverley. 

"Holloa, Mr. Knox, " she called; "I thought you had gone up the tower?"

"No, " I replied, laughing, "I lack the energy. "

"Do you?" she said, softly, "then sit down and talk to me. "

She dropped down upon a grassy bank, looking up at me invitingly, and Iaccepted the invitation without demur. 

"I love this old garden, " she declared, "although of course it isreally no older than the rest of the place. I always think there shouldbe peacocks, though. "

"Yes, " I agreed, "peacocks would be appropriate. "

"And little pages dressed in yellow velvet. "

She met my glance soberly for a moment and then burst into a peal ofmerry laughter. 

"Do you know, Miss Beverley, " I said, watching her, "I find it hard toplace you in the household of the Colonel. "

"Yes?" she said simply; "you must. "

"Oh, then you realize that you are--"

"Out of place here?"

"Quite. "

"Of course I am. "

She smiled, shook her head, and changed the subject. 

"I am so glad Mr. Paul Harley has come down, " she confessed. 

"You know my friend by name, then?"

"Yes, " she replied, "someone I met in Nice spoke of him, and I know heis very clever. "

"In Nice? Did you live in Nice before you came here?"

Val Beverley nodded slowly, and her glance grew oddly retrospective. 

"I lived for over a year with Madame de Stämer in a little villa on thePromenade des Anglaise, " she replied. "That was after Madame wasinjured. "

"She sustained her injuries during the war, I understand?"

"Yes. Poor Madame. The hospital of which she was in charge was bombedand the shock left her as you see her. I was there, too, but I luckilyescaped without injury. "

"What, you were there?"

"Yes. That was where I first met Madame de Stämer. She used to be verywealthy, you see, and she established this hospital in France at herown expense, and I was one of her assistants for a time. She lost bothher husband and her fortune in the war, and as if that were not badenough, lost the use of her limbs, too. "

"Poor woman, " I said. "I had no idea her life had been so tragic. Shehas wonderful courage. "

"Courage!" exclaimed the girl, "if you knew all that I know about her. "

Her face grew sweetly animated as she bent toward me excitedly andconfidentially. 

"Really, she is simply wonderful. I learned to respect her in thosedays as I have never respected any other woman in the world; and when, after all her splendid work, she, so vital and active, was strickendown like that, I felt that I simply could not leave her, especially asshe asked me to stay. "

"So you went with her to Nice?"

"Yes. Then the Colonel took this house, and we came here, but--"

She hesitated, and glanced at me curiously. 

"Perhaps you are not quite happy?"

"No, " she said, "I am not. You see it was different in France. I knewso many people. But here at Cray's Folly it is so lonely, and Madameis--"

Again she hesitated. 

"Yes?"

"Well, " she laughed in an embarrassed fashion, "I am afraid of her attimes. "

"In what way?"

"Oh, in a silly, womanish sort of way. Of course she is a wonderfulmanager; she rules the house with a rod of iron. But really I haven'tanything to do here, and I feel frightfully out of place sometimes. Then the Colonel--Oh, but what am I talking about?"

"Won't you tell me what it is that the Colonel fears?"

"You know that he fears something, then?"

"Of course. That is why Paul Harley is here. "

A change came over the girl's face; a look almost of dread. 

"I wish I knew what it all meant. "

"You are aware, then, that there is something wrong?"

"Naturally I am. Sometimes I have been so frightened that I have madeup my mind to leave the very next day. "

"You mean that you have been frightened at night?" I asked withcuriosity. 

"Dreadfully frightened. "

"Won't you tell me in what way?"

She looked up at me swiftly, then turned her head aside, and bit herlip. 

"No, not now, " she replied. "I can't very well. "

"Then at least tell me why you stayed?"

"Well, " she smiled rather pathetically, "for one thing, I haven'tanywhere else to go. "

"Have you no friends in England?"

She shook her head. 

"No. There was only poor daddy, and he died over two years ago. Thatwas when I went to Nice. "

"Poor little girl, " I said; and the words were spoken before I realizedtheir undue familiarity. 

An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but Miss Beverley did not seemto have noticed the indiscretion. Indeed my sympathy was sincere, and Ithink she had appreciated the fact. 

She looked up again with a bright smile. 

"Why are we talking about such depressing things on this simplyheavenly day?" she exclaimed. 

"Goodness knows, " said I. "Will you show me round these lovelygardens?"

"Delighted, sir!" replied the girl, rising and sweeping me a mockingcurtsey. 

Thereupon we set out, and at every step I found a new delight in somewayward curl, in a gesture, in the sweet voice of my companion. Hermerry laugh was music, but in wistful mood I think she was even morealluring. 

The menace, if menace there were, which overhung Cray's Folly, ceasedto exist--for me, at least, and I blessed the lucky chance which hadled to my presence there. 

We were presently rejoined by Colonel Menendez and Paul Harley, and Igathered that my surmise that it had been their voices which I hadheard proceeding from the top of the tower to have been only partlyaccurate. 

"I know you will excuse me, Mr. Harley, " said the Colonel, "fordetailing the duty to Pedro, but my wind is not good enough for thestairs. "

He used idiomatic English at times with that facility which someforeigners acquire, but always smiled in a self-satisfied way when hehad employed a slang term. 

"I quite understand, Colonel, " replied Harley. "The view from the topwas very fine. "

"And now, gentlemen, " continued the Colonel, "if Miss Beverley willexcuse us, we will retire to the library and discuss business. " 

"As you wish, " said Harley; "but I have an idea that it is your customto rest in the afternoon. "

Colonel Menendez shrugged his shoulders. "It used to be, " he admitted, "but I have too much to think about in these days. "

"I can see that you have much to tell me, " admitted Harley; "andtherefore I am entirely at your service. "

Val Beverley smiled and walked away swinging her book, at the same timetreating me to a glance which puzzled me considerably. I wondered if Ihad mistaken its significance, for it had seemed to imply that she hadaccepted me as an ally. Certainly it served to awaken me to the factthat I had discovered a keen personal interest in the mystery whichhung over this queerly assorted household. 

I glanced at my friend as the Colonel led the way into the house. I sawhim staring upward with a peculiar expression upon his face, andfollowing the direction of his glance I could see an awning spread overone of the gray-stone balconies. Beneath it, reclining in a long canechair, lay Madame de Stämer. I think she was asleep; at any rate, shegave no sign, but lay there motionless, as Harley and I walked inthrough the open French window followed by Colonel Menendez. 

Odd and unimportant details sometimes linger long in the memory. And Iremember noticing that a needle of sunlight, piercing a crack in thegaily-striped awning rested upon a ring which Madame wore, so that thediamonds glittered like sparks of white-hot fire. 

CHAPTER VI

THE BARRIER

Colonel Menendez conducted us to a long, lofty library in which mightbe detected the same note of un-English luxury manifested in the otherappointments of the house. The room, in common with every other which Ihad visited in Cray's Folly, was carried out in oak: doors, windowframes, mantelpiece, and ceiling representing fine examples of thismassive woodwork. Indeed, if the eccentricity of the designer of Cray'sFolly were not sufficiently demonstrated by the peculiar plan of thebuilding, its construction wholly of granite and oak must have remarkedhim a man of unusual if substantial ideas. 

There were four long windows opening on to a veranda which commanded aview of part of the rose garden and of three terraced lawns descendingto a lake upon which I perceived a number of swans. Beyond, in thevalley, lay verdant pastures, where cattle grazed. A lark hungcarolling blithely far above, and the sky was almost cloudless. I couldhear a steam reaper at work somewhere in the distance. This, with themore intimate rattle of a lawn-mower wielded by a gardener who was notvisible from where I stood, alone disturbed the serene silence, exceptthat presently I detected the droning of many bees among the roses. Sunlight flooded the prospect; but the veranda lay in shadow, and thatlong, oaken room was refreshingly cool and laden with the heavy perfumeof the flowers. 

From the windows, then, one beheld a typical English summer-scape, butthe library itself struck an altogether more exotic note. There weremany glazed bookcases of a garish design in ebony and gilt, and thesewere laden with a vast collection of works in almost every Europeanlanguage, reflecting perhaps the cosmopolitan character of thecolonel's household. There was strange Spanish furniture upholstered inperforated leather and again displaying much gilt. There were suits ofblack armour and a great number of Moorish ornaments. The pictures werefine but sombre, and all of the Spanish school. 

One Velasquez in particular I noted with surprise, reflecting that, assuming it to be an authentic work of the master, my entire worldlypossessions could not have enabled me to buy it. It was the portrait ofa typical Spanish cavalier and beyond doubt a Menendez. In fact, theresemblance between the haughty Spanish grandee, who seemed about tostep out of the canvas and pick a quarrel with the spectator, andColonel Don Juan himself was almost startling. Evidently, our host hadimported most of his belongings from Cuba. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, as we entered, "make yourselves quite at home, Ibeg. All my poor establishment contains is for your entertainment andservice. "

He drew up two long, low lounge chairs, the arms provided withreceptacles to contain cooling drinks; and the mere sight of thesechairs mentally translated me to the Spanish Main, where I picturedthem set upon the veranda of that hacienda which had formerly been ourhost's residence. 

Harley and I became seated and Colonel Menendez disposed himself upon aleather-covered couch, nodding apologetically as he did so. 

"My health requires that I should recline for a certain number of hoursevery day, " he explained. "So you will please forgive me. "

"My dear Colonel Menendez, " said Harley, "I feel sure that you areinterrupting your siesta in order to discuss the unpleasant businesswhich finds us in such pleasant surroundings. Allow me once again tosuggest that we postpone this matter until, shall we say, afterdinner?"

"No, no! No, no, " protested the Colonel, waving his hand deprecatingly. "Here is Pedro with coffee and some curaçao of a kind which I canreally recommend, although you may be unfamiliar with it. "

I was certainly unfamiliar with the liqueur which he insisted we musttaste, and which was contained in a sort of square, opaque bottleunknown, I think, to English wine merchants. Beyond doubt it was potentstuff; and some cigars which the Spaniard produced on this occasion andwhich were enclosed in little glass cylinders resembling test-tubes andelaborately sealed, I recognized to be priceless. They convinced me, ifconviction had not visited me already, that Colonel Don Juan SarmientoMenendez belonged to that old school of West Indian planters by whomthe tradition of the Golden Americas had been for long preserved in theSpanish Main. 

We discussed indifferent matters for a while, sipping this wonderfulcuraçao of our host's. The effect created by the Colonel's story fadedentirely, and when, the latter being unable to conceal his drowsiness, Harley stood up, I took the hint with gratitude; for at that moment Idid not feel in the mood to discuss serious business or indeed businessof any kind. 

"Gentlemen, " said the Colonel, also rising, in spite of our protests, "I will observe your wishes. My guests' wishes are mine. We will meetthe ladies for tea on the terrace. "

Harley and I walked out into the garden together, our courteous hoststanding in the open window, and bowing in that exaggerated fashionwhich in another might have been ridiculous but which was possible inColonel Menendez, because of the peculiar grace of deportment which washis. 

As we descended the steps I turned and glanced back, I know not why. But the impression which I derived of the Colonel's face as he stoodthere in the shadow of the veranda was one I can never forget. 

His expression had changed utterly, or so it seemed to me. He no longerresembled Velasquez' haughty cavalier; gone, too, was the debonnairebearing, I turned my head aside swiftly, hoping that he had notdetected my backward glance. 

I felt that I had violated hospitality. I felt that I had seen what Ishould not have seen. And the result was to bring about that which nostory of West Indian magic could ever have wrought in my mind. 

A dreadful, cold premonition claimed me, a premonition that this was adoomed man. 

The look which I had detected upon his face was an indefinable, anindescribable look; but I had seen it in the eyes of one who had beenbitten by a poisonous reptile and who knew his hours to be numbered. Itwas uncanny, unnerving; and whereas at first the atmosphere of ColonelMenendez's home had seemed to be laden with prosperous security, nowthat sense of ease and restfulness was gone--and gone for ever. 

"Harley, " I said, speaking almost at random, "this promises to be thestrangest case you have ever handled. "

"Promises?" Paul Harley laughed shortly. "It _is_ the strangestcase, Knox. It is a case of wheels within wheels, of mystery crowningmystery. Have you studied our host?"

"Closely. "

"And what conclusion have you formed?"

"None at the moment; but I think one is slowly crystalizing. "

"Hm, " muttered Harley, as we paced slowly on amid the rose trees. "Ofone thing I am satisfied. "

"What is that?"

"That Colonel Menendez is not afraid of Bat Wing, whoever or whateverBat Wing may be. "

"Not afraid?"

"Certainly he is not afraid, Knox. He has possibly been afraid in thepast, but now he is resigned. "

"Resigned to what?"

"Resigned to death!"

"Good God, Harley, you are right!" I cried. "You are right! I saw it inhis eyes as we left the library. "

Harley stopped and turned to me sharply. 

"You saw this in the Colonel's eyes?" he challenged. 

"I did. "

"Which corroborates my theory, " he said, softly; "for _I_ had seenit elsewhere. "

"Where do you mean, Harley?"

"In the face of Madame de Stämer. "

"What?"

"Knox"--Harley rested his hand upon my arm and looked about himcautiously--"_she knows. _"

"But knows what?"

"That is the question which we are here to answer, but I am as sure asit is humanly possible to be sure of anything that whatever ColonelMenendez may tell us to-night, one point at least he will withhold. "

"What do you expect him to withhold?"

"The meaning of the sign of the Bat Wing. "

"Then you think he knows its meaning?"

"He has told us that it is the death-token of Voodoo. "

I stared at Harley in perplexity. 

"Then you believe his explanation to be false?"

"Not necessarily, Knox. It may be what he claims for it. But he iskeeping something back. He speaks all the time from behind a barrierwhich he, himself, has deliberately erected against me. "

"I cannot understand why he should do so, " I declared, as he looked atme steadily. "Within the last few moments I have become definitelyconvinced that his appeal to you was no idle one. Therefore, why shouldhe not offer you every aid in his power?"

"Why, indeed?" muttered Harley. 

"The same thing, " I continued, "applies to Madame de Stämer. If ever Ihave seen love-light in a woman's eyes I have seen it in hers, to-day, whenever her glance has rested upon Colonel Menendez. Harley, I believeshe literally worships the ground he walks upon. "

"She does, she does!" cried my companion, and emphasized the words withbeats of his clenched fist. "It is utterly, damnably mystifying. But Itell you, she knows, Knox, she knows!"

"You mean she knows that he is a doomed man?"

Harley nodded rapidly. 

"They both know, " he replied; "but there is something which they darenot divulge. "

He glanced at me swiftly, and his bronzed face wore a peculiarexpression. 

"Have you had an opportunity of any private conversation with Miss ValBeverley?" he enquired. 

"Yes, " I said. "Surely you remember that you found me chatting with herwhen you returned from your inspection of the tower. "

"I remember perfectly well, but I thought you might have just met. Nowit appears to me, Knox, that you have quickly established yourself inthe good books of a very charming girl. My only reason for visiting thetower was to afford you just this opportunity! Don't frown. Beyondreminding you of the fact that she has been on intimate terms withMadame de Stämer for some years, I will not intrude in any way uponyour private plans in that direction. "

I stared at him, and I suppose my expression was an angry one. 

"Surely you don't misunderstand me?" he said. "A cultured English girlof that type cannot possibly have lived with these people withoutlearning something of the matters which are puzzling us so badly. Am Iasking too much?"

"I see what you mean, " I said, slowly. "No, I suppose you are right, Harley. "

"Good, " he muttered. "I will leave that side of the enquiry in yourvery capable hands, Knox. "

He paused, and began to stare about him. 

"From this point, " said he, "we have an unobstructed view of thetower. "

We turned and stood looking up at the unsightly gray structure, withits geometrical rows of windows and the minaret-like gallery at thetop. 

"Of course"--I broke a silence of some moments duration--"the entirescheme of Cray's Folly is peculiar, but the rooms, except for auniformity which is monotonous, and an unimaginative scheme ofdecoration which makes them all seem alike, are airy and well lighted, eminently sane and substantial. The tower, however, is quiteinexcusable, unless the idea was to enable the occupant to look overthe tops of the trees in all directions. "

"Yes, " agreed Harley, "it is an ugly landmark. But yonder up the slopeI can see the corner of what seems to be a very picturesque house ofsome kind. "

"I caught a glimpse of it earlier to-day, " I replied. "Yes, from thispoint a little more of it is visible. Apparently quite an old place. "

I paused, staring up the hillside, but Harley, hands locked behind himand chin lowered reflectively, was pacing on. I joined him, and weproceeded for some little distance in silence, passing a gardener whotouched his cap respectfully and to whom I thought at first mycompanion was about to address some remark. Harley passed on, however, still occupied, it seemed, with his reflections, and coming to a gravelpath which, bordering one side of the lawns, led down from terrace toterrace into the valley, turned, and began to descend. 

"Let us go and interview the swans, " he murmured absently. 

CHAPTER VII

AT THE LAVENDER ARMS

In certain moods Paul Harley was impossible as a companion, and I, whoknew him well, had learned to leave him to his own devices at suchtimes. These moods invariably corresponded with his meeting someproblem to the heart of which the lance of his keen wit failed topenetrate. His humour might not display itself in the spoken word, hemerely became oblivious of everything and everybody around him. Peoplemight talk to him and he scarce noted their presence, familiar facesappear and he would see them not. Outwardly he remained the observantHarley who could see further into a mystery than any other in England, but his observation was entirely introspective; although he moved amidthe hustle of life he was spiritually alone, communing with thesolitude which dwells in every man's heart. 

Presently, then, as we came to the lake at the foot of the slopinglawns, where water lilies were growing and quite a number of swans hadtheir habitation, I detected the fact that I had ceased to exist so faras Harley was concerned. Knowing this mood of old, I pursued my wayalone, pressing on across the valley and making for a swing gate whichseemed to open upon a public footpath. Coming to this gate I turned andlooked back. 

Paul Harley was standing where I had left him by the edge of the lake, staring as if hypnotized at the slowly moving swans. But I would havebeen prepared to wager that he saw neither swans nor lake, but mentallywas far from the spot, deep in some complex maze of reflection throughwhich no ordinary mind could hope to follow him. 

I glanced at my watch and found that it was but little after twoo'clock. Luncheon at Cray's Folly was early. I therefore had some timeupon my hands and I determined to employ it in exploring part of theneighbourhood. Accordingly I filled and lighted my pipe and strolledleisurely along the footpath, enjoying the beauty of the afternoon, andadmiring the magnificent timber which grew upon the southerly slopes ofthe valley. 

Larks sang high above me and the air was fragrant with those wonderfulearthy scents which belong to an English countryside. A herd of veryfine Jersey cattle presently claimed inspection, and a little fartheron I found myself upon a high road where a brown-faced fellow seatedaloft upon a hay-cart cheerily gave me good-day as I passed. 

Quite at random I turned to the left and followed the road, so thatpresently I found myself in a very small village, the principalbuilding of which was a very small inn called the "Lavender Arms. "

Colonel Menendez's curaçao, combined with the heat of the day, had mademe thirsty; for which reason I stepped into the bar-parlour determinedto sample the local ale. I wars served by the landlady, a neat, round, red little person, and as she retired, having placed a foam-capped mugupon the counter, her glance rested for a moment upon the only otheroccupant of the room, a man seated in an armchair immediately to theright of the door. A glass of whisky stood on the window ledge at hiselbow, and that it was by no means the first which he had imbibed, hisappearance seemed to indicate. 

Having tasted the cool contents of my mug, I leaned back against thecounter and looked at this person curiously. 

He was apparently of about medium height, but of a somewhat fragileappearance. He was dressed like a country gentleman, and a stick andsoft hat lay upon the ledge near his glass. But the thing about himwhich had immediately arrested my attention was his reallyextraordinary resemblance to Paul Harley's engraving of Edgar AllanPoe. 

I wondered at first if Harley's frequent references to the eccentricAmerican genius, to whom he accorded a sort of hero-worship, wereresponsible for my imagining a close resemblance where only a slightone existed. But inspection of that strange, dark face convinced me ofthe fact that my first impression had been a true one. Perhaps, in mycuriosity, I stared rather rudely. 

"You will pardon me, sir, " said the stranger, and I was startled tonote that he spoke with a faint American accent, "but are you aliterary man?"

As I had judged to be the case, he was slightly bemused, but by nomeans drunk, and although his question was abrupt it was spoken civillyenough. 

"Journalism is one of the several occupations in which I have failed, "I replied, lightly. 

"You are not a fiction writer?"

"I lack the imagination necessary for that craft, sir. "

The other wagged his head slowly and took a drink of whisky. "Nevertheless, " he said, and raised his finger solemnly, "you werethinking that I resembled Edgar Allan Poe!"

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, for the man had really amazed me. "Youclearly resemble him in more ways than one. I must really ask you toinform me how you deduced such a fact from a mere glance of mine. "

"I will tell you, sir, " he replied. "But, first, I must replenish myglass, and I should be honoured if you would permit me to replenishyours. "

"Thanks very much, " I said, "but I would rather you excused me. "

"As you wish, sir, " replied the American with grave courtesy, "as youwish. "

He stepped up to the counter and rapped upon it with half a crown, until the landlady appeared. She treated me to a pathetic glance, butrefilled the empty glass. 

My American acquaintance having returned to his seat and having added avery little water to the whisky went on:

"Now, sir, " said he, "my name is Colin Camber, formerly of Richmond, Virginia, United States of America, but now of the Guest House, Surrey, England, at your service. "

Taking my cue from Mr. Camber's gloomy but lofty manner, I bowedformally and mentioned my name. 

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Knox, " he assured me;"and now, sir, to answer your question. When you came in a few momentsago you glanced at me. Your eyes did not open widely as is the casewhen one recognizes, or thinks one recognizes, an acquaintance, theynarrowed. This indicated retrospection. For a moment they turned aside. You were focussing a fugitive idea, a memory. You captured it. Youlooked at me again, and your successive glances read as follows: Thehair worn uncommonly long, the mathematical brow, the eyes of a poet, the slight moustache, small mouth, weak chin; the glass at his elbow. The resemblance is complete. Knowing how complete it is myself, sir, Iventured to test my theory, and it proved to be sound. "

Now, as Mr. Colin Camber had thus spoken in the serious manner of aslightly drunken man, I had formed the opinion that I stood in thepresence of a very singular character. Here was that seemingmésalliance which not infrequently begets genius: a powerful andoriginal mind allied to a weak will. I wondered what Mr. Colin Camber'soccupation might be, and somewhat, too, I wondered why his name wasunfamiliar to me. For that the possessor of that brow and those eyescould fail to make his mark in any profession which he might take up Iwas unwilling to believe. 

"Your exposition has been very interesting, Mr. Camber, " I said. "Youare a singularly close observer, I perceive. "

"Yes, " he replied, "I have passed my life in observing the ways of myfellowmen, a study which I have pursued in various parts of the worldwithout appreciable benefit to myself. I refer to financial benefit. "

He contemplated me with a look which had grown suddenly pathetic. 

"I would not have you think, sir, " he added, "that I am an habitualtoper. I have latterly been much upset by--domestic worries, and--er--"He emptied his glass at a draught. "Surely, Mr. Knox, you are goingto replenish? Whilst you are doing so, would you kindly request Mrs. Wootton to extend the same favour to myself?"

But at that moment Mrs. Wootton in person appeared behind the counter. "Time, please, gentlemen, " she said; "it is gone half-past two. "

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Camber, rising. "What is that? You decline toserve me, Mrs. Wootton?"

"Why, not at all, Mr. Camber, " answered the landlady, "but I can serveno one now; it's after time. "

"You decline to serve me, " he muttered, his speech becoming slurred. "Am I, then, to be insulted?"

I caught a glance of entreaty from the landlady. "My dear sir, " I said, genially, "we must bow to the law, I suppose. At least we are betteroff here than in America. "

"Ah, that is true, " agreed Mr. Camber, throwing his head back andspeaking the words as though they possessed some deep dramaticsignificance. "Yes, but such laws are an insult to every intelligentman. "

He sat down again rather heavily, and I stood looking from him to thelandlady, and wondering what I should do. The matter was decided forme, however, in a way which I could never have foreseen. For, hearing alight footfall upon the step which led up to the bar-parlour, I turned--and there almost beside me stood a wrinkled little Chinaman!

 He wore a blue suit and a tweed cap, he wore queer, thick-soledslippers, and his face was like a smiling mask hewn out of very oldivory. I could scarcely credit the evidence of my senses, since theLavender Arms was one of the last places in which I should have lookedfor a native of China. 

Mr. Colin Camber rose again, and fixing his melancholy eyes upon thenewcomer:

"Ah Tsong, " he said in a tone of cold anger, "what are you doing here?"

Quite unmoved the Chinaman replied:

"Blingee you chit, sir, vellee soon go back. "

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Camber. "Answer me, Ah Tsong: who sentyou?"

"Lilly missee, " crooned the Chinaman, smiling up into the other's facewith a sort of childish entreaty. "Lilly missee. "

"Oh, " said Mr. Camber in a changed voice. "Oh. "

He stood very upright for a moment, his gaze set upon the wrinkledChinese face. Then he looked at Mrs. Wootton and bowed, and looked atme and bowed, very stiffly. 

"I must excuse myself, sir, " he announced. "My wife desires my presenceat home. "

I returned his bow, and as he walked quite steadily toward the door, followed by Ah Tsong, he paused, turned, and said: "Mr. Knox, I shouldesteem it a friendly action if you would spare me an hour of yourcompany before you leave Surrey. My visitors are few. Any one, any one, will direct you to the Guest House. I am persuaded that we have much incommon. Good-day, sir. "

He went down the steps, disappearing in company with the Chinaman, andhaving watched them go, I turned to Mrs. Wootton, the landlady, insilent astonishment. 

She nodded her head and sighed. 

"The same every day and every evening for months past, " she said. "I amafraid it's going to be the death of him. "

"Do you mean that Mr. Camber comes here every day and is always fetchedby the Chinaman?"

"Twice every day, " corrected the landlady, "and his poor wife sendshere regularly. "

"What a tragedy, " I muttered, "and such a brilliant man. "

"Ah, " said she, busily removing jugs and glasses from the counter, "itdoes seem a terrible thing. "

"Has Mr. Camber lived for long in this neighbourhood?" I ventured toinquire. 

"It was about three years ago, sir, that he took the old Guest House atMid-Hatton. I remember the time well enough because of all the troublethere was about him bringing a Chinaman down here. "

"I can imagine it must have created something of a sensation, " Imurmured. "Is the Guest House a large property?"

"Oh, no, sir, only ten rooms and a garden, and it had been vacant for along time. It belongs to what is called the Crayland Park Estate. "

"Mr. Camber, I take it, is a literary man?"

"So I believe, sir. "

Mrs. Wootton, having cleared the counter, glanced up at the clock andthen at me with a cheery but significant smile. 

"I see that it is after time, " I said, returning the smile, "but thequeer people who seem to live hereabouts interest me very much. "

"I can't wonder at that, sir!" said the landlady, laughing outright. "Chinamen and Spanish men and what-not. If some of the old gentry thatlived here before the war could see it, they wouldn't recognize theplace, of that I am sure. "

"Ah, well, " said I, pausing at the step, "I shall hope to see more ofMr. Camber, and of yourself too, madam, for your ale is excellent. "

"Thank you, sir, I'm sure, " said the landlady much gratified, "but asto Mr. Camber, I really doubt if he would know you if you met himagain. Not if he was sober, I mean. "

"Really?"

"Oh, it's a fact, believe me. Just in the last six months or so he hasstarted on the rampage like, but some of the people he has met in hereand asked to call upon him have done it, thinking he meant it. "

"And they have not been well received?" said I, lingering. 

"They have had the door shut in their faces!" declared Mrs. Woottonwith a certain indignation. "He either does not remember what he saysor does when he is in drink, or he pretends he doesn't. Oh, dear, it'sa funny world. Well, good-day, sir. "

"Good-day, " said I, and came out of the Lavender Arms full of sympathywith the views of the "old gentry, " as outlined by Mrs. Wootton; forcertainly it would seem that this quiet spot in the Surrey Hills hadbecome a rallying ground for peculiar people. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE CALL OF M'KOMBO

Of tea upon the veranda of Cray's Folly that afternoon I retain severalnotable memories. I got into closer touch with my host and hostess, without achieving anything like a proper understanding of either ofthem, and I procured a new viewpoint of Miss Val Beverley. Her reposewas misleading. She deliberately subjugated her own vital personalityto that of Madame de Stämer, why, I knew not, unless she felt herselfunder an obligation to do so. That her blue-gray eyes could be wistfulwas true enough, they could also be gay; and once I detected in them alook of sadness which dispelled the butterfly illusion belonging to herdainty slenderness, to her mobile lips, to the vagabond curling hair ofrusset brown. 

Paul Harley's manner remained absent, but I who knew his moods so wellrecognized that this abstraction was no longer real. It was a posewhich he often adopted when in reality he was keenly interested in hissurroundings. It baffled me, however, as effectively as it baffledothers, and whilst at one moment I decided that he was studying ColonelMenendez, in the next I became convinced that Madame de Stämer was thesubject upon his mental dissecting table. 

That he should find in Madame a fascinating problem did not surpriseme. She must have afforded tempting study for any psychologist. I couldnot fathom the nature of the kinship existing between herself and theSpanish colonel, for Madame de Stämer was French to her fingertips. Herexpressions, her gestures, her whole outlook on life proclaimed thefashionable Parisienne. 

She possessed a vigorous masculine intelligence and was the mostentertaining companion imaginable. She was daringly outspoken, and itwas hard to believe that her gaiety was forced. Yet, as the afternoonwore on, I became more and more convinced that such was the case. 

I thought that before affliction visited her Madame de Stämer must havebeen a vivacious and a beautiful woman. Her vivacity remained and muchof her beauty, so that it was difficult to believe her snow-white hairto be a product of nature. Again and again I found myself regarding itas a powdered coiffure of the Pompadour period and wondering why Madamewore no patches. 

That a deep and sympathetic understanding existed between herself andColonel Menendez was unmistakable. More than once I intercepted glancesfrom the dark eyes of Madame which were lover-like, yet laden with aprofound sorrow. She was playing a rôle, and I was convinced thatHarley knew this. It was not merely a courageous fight againstaffliction on the part of a woman of the world, versed in masking herreal self from the prying eyes of society, it was a studied performanceprompted by some deeper motive. 

She dressed with exquisite taste, and to see her seated there amid hercushions, gesticulating vivaciously, one would never have supposed thatshe was crippled. My admiration for her momentarily increased, the moreso since I could see that she was sincerely fond of Val Beverley, whoseevery movement she followed with looks of almost motherly affection. This was all the more strange as Madame de Stämer whose age, Isupposed, lay somewhere on the sunny side of forty, was of a type whichexpects, and wins, admiration, long after the average woman has ceasedto be attractive. 

One endowed with such a temperament is as a rule unreasonably jealousof youth and good looks in another. I could not determine if Madame'sattitude were to be ascribed to complacent self-satisfaction or to anobler motive. It sufficed for me that she took an unfeigned joy in theyouthful sweetness of her companion. 

"Val, dear, " she said, presently, addressing the girl, "you should makethose sleeves shorter, my dear. "

She had a rapid way of speaking, and possessed a slightly husky butfascinatingly vibrant voice. 

"Your arms are very pretty. You should not hide them. "

Val Beverley blushed, and laughed to conceal her embarrassment. 

"Oh, my dear, " exclaimed Madame, "why be ashamed of arms? All womenhave arms, but some do well to hide them. "

"Quite right, Marie, " agreed the Colonel, his thin voice affording anodd contrast to the deeper tones of his cousin. "But it is the scraggyones who seem to delight in displaying their angles. "

"The English, yes, " Madame admitted, "but the French, no. They are tooclever, Juan. "

"Frenchwomen think too much about their looks, " said Val Beverley, quietly. "Oh, you know they do, Madame. They would rather die than bewithout admiration. "

Madame shrugged her shoulders. 

"So would I, my dear, " she confessed, "although I cannot walk. Withoutadmiration there is"--she snapped her fingers--"nothing. And who wouldnotice a linnet when a bird of paradise was about, however sweet hervoice? Tell me that, my dear?"

Paul Harley aroused himself and laughed heartily. 

"Yet, " he said, "I think with Miss Beverley, that this love of elegancedoes not always make for happiness. Surely it is the cause of half thedomestic tragedies in France?"

"Ah, the French love elegance, " cried Madame, shrugging, "they cannothelp it. To secure what is elegant a Frenchwoman will sometimes forgether husband, yes, but never forget herself. "

"Really, Marie, " protested the Colonel, "you say most strange things!"

"Is that so, Juan?" she replied, casting one of her queer glances inhis direction; "but how would you like to be surrounded by a lot ofdrabs, eh? That man, Mr. Knox, " she extended one white hand in thedirection of Colonel Menendez, the fingers half closed, in a gesturewhich curiously reminded me of Sarah Bernhardt, "that man would noticeif a parlourmaid came into the room with a shoe unbuttoned. Poof! if welove elegance it is because without it the men would never love_us_. "

Colonel Menendez bent across the table and kissed the white fingers inhis courtier-like fashion. 

"My sweet cousin, " he said, "I should love you in rags. "

Madame smiled and flushed like a girl, but withdrawing her hand sheshrugged. 

"They would have to be _pretty_ rags!" she added. 

During this little scene I detected Val Beverley looking at me in avaguely troubled way, and it was easy to guess that she was wonderingwhat construction I should place upon it. However:

"I am going into the town, " declared Madame de Stämer, energetically. "Half the things ordered from Hartley's have never been sent. "

"Oh, Madame, please let _me_ go, " cried Val Beverley. 

"My dear, " pronounced Madame, "I will not let you go, but I will letyou come with me if you wish. "

She rang a little bell which stood upon the tea-table beside the urn, and Pedro came out through the drawing room. 

"Pedro, " she said, "is the car ready?"

The Spanish butler bowed. 

"Tell Carter to bring it round. Hurry, dear, " to the girl, "if you arecoming with me. I shall not be a minute. "

Thereupon she whisked her mechanical chair about, waved her hand todismiss Pedro, and went steering through the drawing room at a greatrate, with Val Beverley walking beside her. 

As we resumed our seats Colonel Menendez lay back with half-closedeyes, his glance following the chair and its occupant until both wereswallowed up in the shadows of the big drawing room. 

"Madame de Stämer is a very remarkable woman, " said Paul Harley. 

"Remarkable?" replied the Colonel. "The spirit of all the old chivalryof France is imprisoned within her, I think. "

He passed cigarettes around, of a long kind resembling cheroots andwrapped in tobacco leaf. I thought it strange that having thusemphasized Madame's nationality he did not feel it incumbent upon himto explain the mystery of their kinship. However, he made no attempt todo so, and almost before we had lighted up, a racy little two-seaterwas driven around the gravel path by Carter, the chauffeur who hadbrought us to Cray's Folly from London. 

The man descended and began to arrange wraps and cushions, and a fewmoments later back came Madame again, dressed for driving. Carter wasabout to lift her into the car when Colonel Menendez stood up andadvanced. 

"Sit down, Juan, sit down!" said Madame, sharply. 

A look of keen anxiety, I had almost said of pain, leapt into her eyes, and the Colonel hesitated. 

"How often must I tell you, " continued the throbbing voice, "that youmust not exert yourself. "

Colonel Menendez accepted the rebuke humbly, but the incident struck meas grotesque; for it was difficult to associate delicacy with such afine specimen of well-preserved manhood as the Colonel. 

However, Carter performed the duty of assisting Madame into her littlecar, and when for a moment he supported her upright, before placing heramong the cushions, I noted that she was a tall woman, slender andelegant. 

All smiles and light, sparkling conversation, she settled herselfcomfortably at the wheel and Val Beverley got in beside her. Madamenodded to Carter in dismissal, waved her hand to Colonel Menendez, cried "Au revoir!" and then away went the little car, swinging aroundthe angle of the house and out of sight. 

Our host stood bare-headed upon the veranda listening to the sound ofthe engine dying away among the trees. He seemed to be lost inreflection from which he only aroused himself when the purr of themotor became inaudible. 

"And now, gentlemen, " he said, and suppressed a sigh, "we have much totalk about. This spot is cool, but is it sufficiently private? Perhaps, Mr. Harley, you would prefer to talk in the library?"

Paul Harley flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. 

"Better still in your own study, Colonel Menendez, " he replied. 

"What, do you suspect eavesdroppers?" asked the Colonel, his mannerbecoming momentarily agitated. 

He looked at Harley as though he suspected the latter of possessingprivate information. 

"We should neglect no possible precaution, " answered my friend. "Thatagencies inimical to your safety are focussed upon the house your ownstatement amply demonstrates. "

Colonel Menendez seemed to be on the point of speaking again, but hechecked himself and in silence led the way through the ornate libraryto a smaller room which opened out of it, and which was furnished as astudy. 

Here the motif was distinctly one of officialdom. Although the Southernelement was not lacking, it was not so marked as in the library or inthe hall. The place was appointed for utility rather than ornament. Everything was in perfect order. In the library, with the blinds drawn, one might have supposed oneself in Trinidad; in the study, undersimilar conditions, one might equally well have imagined Downing Streetto lie outside the windows. Essentially, this was the workroom of a manof affairs. 

Having settled ourselves comfortably, Paul Harley opened theconversation. 

"In several particulars, " said he, "I find my information to beincomplete. "

He consulted the back of an envelope, upon which, I presumed during theafternoon, he had made a number of pencilled notes. 

"For instance, " he continued, "your detection of someone watching thehouse, and subsequently of someone forcing an entrance, had no visibleassociation with the presence of the bat wing attached to your frontdoor?"

"No, " replied the Colonel, slowly, "these episodes took place a monthago. "

"Exactly a month ago?"

"They took place immediately before the last full moon. "

"Ah, before the full moon. And because you associate the activities ofVoodoo with the full moon, you believe that the old menace has againbecome active?"

The Colonel nodded emphatically. He was busily engaged in rolling oneof his eternal cigarettes. 

"This belief of yours was recently confirmed by the discovery of thebat wing?"

"I no longer doubted, " said Colonel Menendez, shrugging his shoulders. "How could I?"

"Quite so, " murmured Harley, absently, and evidently pursuing someprivate train of thought. "And now, I take it that your suspicions, ifexpressed in words would amount to this: During your last visit to Cubayou (_a_) either killed some high priest of Voodoo, or (_b_) seriouslyinjured him? Assuming the first theory to be the correct one, yourdeath was determined upon by the sect over which he had formerlypresided. Assuming the second to be accurate, however, it is presumablythe man himself for whom we must look. Now, Colonel Menendez, kindlyinform me if you recall the name of this man?"

"I recall it very well, " replied the Colonel. "His name was M'kombo, and he was a Benin negro. "

"Assuming that he is still alive, what, roughly, would his age be to-day?"

The Colonel seemed to meditate, pushing a box of long Martinique cigarsacross the table in my direction. 

"He would be an old man, " he pronounced. "I, myself, am fifty-two, andI should say that M'kombo if alive to-day would be nearer to seventythan sixty. "

"Ah, " murmured Harley, "and did he speak English?"

"A few words, I believe. "

Paul Harley fixed his gaze upon the dark, aquiline face. 

"In short, " he said, "do you really suspect that it was M'kombo whoseshadow you saw upon the lawn, who a month ago made a midnight entranceinto Cray's Folly, and who recently pinned a bat wing to the door?"

Colonel Menendez seemed somewhat taken aback by this direct question. "I cannot believe it, " he confessed. 

"Do you believe that this order or religion of Voodooism has anyexistence outside those places where African negroes or descendents ofnegroes are settled?"

"I should not have been prepared to believe it, Mr. Harley, prior to myexperiences in Washington and elsewhere. "

"Then you do believe that there are representatives of this cult to bemet with in Europe and America?"

"I should have been prepared to believe it possible in America, for inAmerica there are many negroes, but in England----"

Again he shrugged his shoulders. 

"I would remind you, " said Harley, quietly, "that there are also quitea number of negroes in England. If you seriously believe Voodoo tofollow negro migration, I can see no objection to assuming it to be auniversal cult. "

"Such an idea is incredible. "

"Yet by what other hypothesis, " asked Harley, "are we to cover thefacts of your own case as stated by yourself? Now, " he consulted hispencilled notes, "there is another point. I gather that these Africansorcerers rely largely upon what I may term intimidation. In otherwords, they claim the power of wishing an enemy to death. "

He raised his eyes and stared grimly at the Colonel. 

"I should not like to suppose that a man of your courage and culturecould subscribe to such a belief. "

"I do not, sir, " declared the Colonel, warmly. "No Obeah man could everexercise his will upon _me!_"

"Yet, if I may say so, " murmured Harley, "your will to live seems tohave become somewhat weakened. "

"What do you mean?"

Colonel Menendez stood up, his delicate nostrils dilated. He glaredangrily at Harley. 

"I mean that I perceive a certain resignation in your manner of which Ido not approve. "

"You do not _approve?_" said Colonel Menendez, softly; and I thought ashe stood looking down upon my friend that I had rarely seen a moreformidable figure. 

Paul Harley had roused him unaccountably, and knowing my friend for amaster of tact I knew also that this had been deliberate, although Icould not even dimly perceive his object. 

"I occupy the position of a specialist, " Harley continued, "and youoccupy that of my patient. Now, you cannot disguise from me that yourmental opposition to this danger which threatens has become slackened. Allow me to remind you that the strongest defence is counter-attack. You are angry, Colonel Menendez, but I would rather see you angry thanapathetic. To come to my last point. You spoke of a neighbour in termswhich led me to suppose that you suspected him of some association withyour enemies. May I ask for the name of this person?"

Colonel Menendez sat down again, puffing furiously at his cigarette, whilst beginning to roll another. He was much disturbed, was fightingto regain mastery of himself. 

"I apologize from the bottom of my heart, " he said, "for a breach ofgood behaviour which really was unforgivable. I was angry when I shouldhave been grateful. Much that you have said is true. Because it istrue, I despise myself. "

He flashed a glance at Paul Harley. 

"Awake, " he continued, "I care for no man breathing, black or white;but _asleep_"--he shrugged his shoulders. "It is in sleep that thesedealers in unclean things obtain their advantage. "

"You excite my curiosity, " declared Harley. 

"Listen, " Colonel Menendez bent forward, resting his elbows upon hisknees. Between the yellow fingers of his left hand he held the newlycompleted cigarette whilst he continued to puff vigorously at the oldone. "You recollect my speaking of the death of a certain native girl?"

Paul Harley nodded. 

"The real cause of her death was never known, but I obtained evidenceto show that on the night after the wing of a bat had been attached toher hut, she wandered out in her sleep and visited the Black Belt. Canyou doubt that someone was calling her?"

"Calling her?"

"Mr. Harley, she was obeying the call of M'kombo!"

"The _call_ of M'kombo? You refer to some kind of hypnoticsuggestions?"

"I illustrate, " replied the Colonel, "to help to make clear somethingwhich I have to tell you. On the night when last the moon was full--onthe night after someone had entered the house--I had retired early tobed. Suddenly I awoke, feeling very cold. I awoke, I say, and where doyou suppose I found myself?"

"I am all anxiety to hear. "

"On the point of entering the Tudor garden--you call it Tudor garden?--which is visible from the window of your room!"

"Most extraordinary, " murmured Harley; "and you were in your nightattire?"

"I was. "

"And what had awakened you?"

"An accident. I believe a lucky accident. I had cut my bare foot uponthe gravel and the pain awakened me. "

"You had no recollection of any dream which had prompted you to go downinto the garden?" 

"None whatever. "

"Does your room face in that direction?"

"It does not. It faces the lake on the south of the house. I haddescended to a side door, unbarred it, and walked entirely around theeast wing before I awakened. "

"Your room faces the lake, " murmured Harley. 

"Yes. "

Their glances met, and in Paul Harley's expression there seemed to be achallenge. 

"You have not yet told me, " said he, "the name of your neighbour. "

Colonel Menendez lighted his new cigarette. 

"Mr. Harley, " he confessed, "I regret that I ever referred to thissuspicion of mine. Indeed it is hardly a suspicion, it is what I maycall a desperate doubt. Do you say that, a desperate doubt?"

"I think I follow you, " said Harley. 

"The fact is this, I only know of one person within ten miles of Cray'sFolly who has ever visited Cuba. "

"Ah. "

"I have no other scrap of evidence to associate him I with my shadowyenemy. This being so, you will pardon me if I ask you to forget that Iever referred to his existence. "

He spoke the words with a sort of lofty finality, and accompanied themwith a gesture of the hands which really left Harley no alternative butto drop the subject. 

Again their glances met, and it was patent to me that underlying allthis conversation was something beyond my ken. What it was that Harleysuspected I could not imagine, nor what it was that Colonel Menendezdesired to conceal; but tension was in the very air. The Spaniard wason the defensive, and Paul Harley was puzzled, irritated. 

It was a strange interview, and one which in the light of after eventsI recognized to possess extraordinary significance. That sixth sense ofHarley's was awake, was prompting him, but to what extent he understoodits promptings at that hour I did not know, and have never known tothis day. Intuitively, I believe, as he sat there staring at ColonelMenendez, he began to perceive the shadow within a shadow which was thesecret of Cray's Folly, which was the thing called Bat Wing, which wasthe devilish force at that very hour alive and potent in our midst. 

CHAPTER IX

OBEAH

This conversation in Colonel Menendez's study produced a veryunpleasant impression upon my mind. The atmosphere of Cray's Follyseemed to become charged with unrest. Of Madame de Stämer and MissBeverley I saw nothing up to the time that I retired to dress. Havingdressed I walked into Harley's room, anxious to learn if he had formedany theory to account for the singular business which had brought us toSurrey. 

Harley had excused himself directly we had left the study, stating thathe wished to get to the village post-office in time to send a telegramto London. Our host had suggested a messenger, but this, as well as theoffer of a car, Harley had declined, saying that the exercise would aidreflection. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find his room empty, for Icould not imagine why the sending of a telegram should have detainedhim so long. 

Dusk was falling, and viewed from the open window the Tudor gardenbelow looked very beautiful, part of it lying in a sort of purplishshadow and the rest being mystically lighted as though viewed through agolden veil. To the whole picture a sort of magic quality was added bya speck of high-light which rested upon the face of the old sun-dial. 

I thought that here was a fit illustration for a fairy tale; then Iremembered the Colonel's account of how he had awakened in the act ofentering this romantic plaisance, and I was touched anew by anunrestfulness, by a sense of the uncanny. 

I observed a book lying upon the dressing table, and concluding that itwas one which Harley had brought with him, I took it up, glancing atthe title. It was "Negro Magic, " and switching on the light, for therewas a private electric plant in Cray's Folly, I opened the book atrandom and began to read. 

"The religion of the negro, " said this authority, "is emotional, andmore often than not associated with beliefs in witchcraft and in therites known as Voodoo or Obi Mysteries. It has been endeavoured by somestudents to show that these are relics of the Fetish worship ofequatorial Africa, but such a genealogy has never been satisfactorilydemonstrated. The cannibalistic rituals, human sacrifices, and obsceneceremonies resembling those of the Black Sabbath of the Middle Ages, reported to prevail in Haiti and other of the islands, and by someamong the negroes of the Southern States of America, may be said torest on doubtful authority. Nevertheless, it is a fact beyond doubtthat among the negroes both of the West Indies and the United Statesthere is a widespread belief in the powers of the Obeah man. A nativewho believes himself to have come under the spell of such a sorcererwill sink into a kind of decline and sometimes die. "

At this point I discovered several paragraphs underlined in pencil, andconcluding that the underlining had been done by Paul Harley, I readthem with particular care. They were as follows: "According to HeskethJ. Bell, the term Obeah is most probably derived from the substantiveObi, a word used on the East coast of Africa to denote witchcraft, sorcery, and fetishism in general. The etymology of Obi has been tracedto a very antique source, stretching far back into Egyptian mythology. A serpent in the Egyptian language was called Ob or Aub. Obion is stillthe Egyptian name for a serpent. Moses, in the name of God, forbade theIsraelites ever to enquire of the demon, Ob, which is translated in ourBible: Charmer or wizard, divinator or sorcerer. The Witch of Endor iscalled Oub or Ob, translated Pythonissa; and Oubois was the name of thebasilisk or royal serpent, emblem of the Sun and an ancient oraculardeity of Africa. "

A paragraph followed which was doubly underlined, and pursuing myreading I made a discovery which literally caused me to hold my breath. This is what I read:

"In a recent contribution to the _Occult Review_, Mr. Colin Camber, theAmerican authority, offered some very curious particulars in support ofa theory to show that whereas snakes and scorpions have always beenrecognized as sacred by Voodoo worshippers, the real emblem of theirunclean religion is the bat, especially _the Vampire Bat of SouthAmerica. _

"He pointed out that the symptoms of one dying beneath the spell of anObeah man are closely paralleled in the cases of men and animals whohave suffered from nocturnal attacks of blood-sucking bats. "

I laid the open book down upon the bed. My brain was in a tumult. Theseveral theories, or outlines of theories which hitherto I hadentertained, were, by these simple paragraphs, cast into the utmostdisorder. I thought of the Colonel's covert references to a neighbourwhom he feared, of his guarded statement that the devotees of Voodoowere not confined to the West Indies, of the attack upon him inWashington, of the bat wing pinned to the door of Cray's Folly. 

Incredulously, I thought of my acquaintance of the Lavender Arms, withhis bemused expression and his magnificent brow; and a great doubt andwonder grew up in my mind. 

I became increasingly impatient for the return of Paul Harley. I feltthat a clue of the first importance had fallen into my possession; sothat when, presently, as I walked impatiently up and down the room, thedoor opened and Harley entered, I greeted him excitedly. 

"Harley!" I cried, "Harley! I have learned a most extraordinary thing!"

Even as I spoke and looked into the keen, eager face, the expression inHarley's eyes struck me. I recognized that in him, too, intenseexcitement was pent up. Furthermore, he was in one of his irritablemoods. But, full of my own discoveries:

"I chanced to glance at this book, " I continued, "whilst I was waitingfor you. You have underlined certain passages. "

He stared at me queerly. 

"I discovered the book in my own library after you had gone last night, Knox, and it was then that I marked the passages which struck me assignificant. "

"But, Harley, " I cried, "the man who is quoted here, Colin Camber, lives in this very neighbourhood!"

"I know. "

"What! You know?"

"I learned it from Inspector Aylesbury of the County Police half anhour ago. "

Harley frowned perplexedly. "Then, why, in Heaven's name didn't youtell me?" he exclaimed. "It would have saved me a most disagreeablejourney into Market Hilton. "

"Market Hilton! What, have you been into the town?"

"That is exactly where I have been, Knox. I 'phoned through to Innesfrom the village post-office after lunch to have the car sent down. There is a convenient garage by the Lavender Arms. "

"But the Colonel has three cars, " I exclaimed. 

"The horse has four legs, " replied Harley, irritably, "but although Ihave only two, there are times when I prefer to use them. I am stillwondering why you failed to mention this piece of information when youhad obtained it. "

"My dear Harley, " said I, patiently, "how could I possibly be expectedto attach any importance to the matter? You must remember that at thetime I had never seen this work on negro sorcery. "

"No, " said Harley, dropping down upon the bed, "that is perfectly true, Knox. I am afraid I have a liver at times; a distinct Indian liver. Excuse me, old man, but to tell you the truth I feel strangely inclinedto pack my bag and leave for London without a moment's delay. "

"What!" I cried. 

"Oh, I know you would be sorry to go, Knox, " said Harley, smiling, "andso, for many reasons, should I. But I have the strongest possibleobjection to being trifled with. "

"I am afraid I don't quite understand you, Harley. "

"Well, just consider the matter for a moment. Do you suppose thatColonel Menendez is ignorant of the fact that his nearest neighbour isa recognized authority upon Voodoo and allied subjects?"

"You are speaking, of course, of Colin Camber?"

"Of none other. "

"No, " I replied, thoughtfully, "the Colonel must know, of course, thatCamber resides in the neighbourhood. "

"And that he knows something of the nature of Camber's studies hisremarks sufficiently indicate, " added Harley. "The whole theory toaccount for these attacks upon his life rests on the premise thatagents of these Obeah people are established in England and America. Then, in spite of my direct questions, he leaves me to find out formyself that Colin Camber's property practically adjoins his own!"

"Really! Does he reside so near as that?"

"My dear fellow, " cried Harley, "he lives at a place called the GuestHouse. You can see it from part of the grounds of Cray's Folly. We werelooking at it to-day. "

"What! the house on the hillside?"

"That's the Guest House! What do you make of it, Knox? That Menendezsuspects this man is beyond doubt. Why should he hesitate to mentionhis name?"

"Well, " I replied, slowly, "probably because to associate practicalsorcery and assassination with such a character would be preposterous. "

"But the man is admittedly a student of these things, Knox. "

"He may be, and that he is a genius of some kind I am quite prepared tobelieve. But having had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Colin Camber, I amnot prepared to believe him capable of murder. "

I suppose I spoke with a certain air of triumph, for Paul Harleyregarded me silently for a while. 

"You seem to be taking this case out of my hands, Knox, " he said. "Whilst I have been systematically at work racing about the county inquest of information you would appear to have blundered further intothe labyrinth than all my industry has enabled me to do. "

He remained in a very evil humour, and now the cause of this suddenlycame to light. 

"I have spent a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon, " he continued, "interviewing an impossible country policeman who had never heard of myexistence!"

This display of human resentment honestly delighted me. It wasrefreshing to know that the omniscient Paul Harley was capable ofpique. 

"One, Inspector Aylesbury, " he went on, bitterly, "a large personbearing a really interesting resemblance to a walrus, but lacking thatcreature's intelligence. It was not until Superintendent East hadspoken to him from Scotland Yard that he ceased to treat me as asuspect. But his new attitude was almost more provoking than the oldone. He adopted the manner of a regimental sergeant-major reluctantlyinterviewing a private with a grievance. If matters should so developthat we are compelled to deal with that fish-faced idiot, God help usall!"

He burst out laughing, his good humour suddenly quite restored, andtaking out his pipe began industriously to load it. 

"I can smoke while I am changing, " he said, "and you can sit there andtell me all about Colin Camber. "

I did as he requested, and Harley, who could change quicker than anyman I had ever known, had just finished tying his bow as I completed mystory of the encounter at the Lavender Arms. 

"Hm, " he muttered, as I ceased speaking. "At every turn I realize thatwithout you I should have been lost, Knox. I am afraid I shall have tochange your duties to-morrow. "

"Change my duties? What do you mean?"

"I warn you that the new ones will be less pleasant than the old! Inother words, I must ask you to tear yourself away from Miss ValBeverley for an hour in the morning, and take advantage of Mr. Camber'sinvitation to call upon him. "

"Frankly, I doubt if he would acknowledge me. "

"Nevertheless, you have a better excuse than I. In the circumstances itis most important that we should get in touch with this man. "

"Very well, " I said, ruefully. "I will do my best. But you don'tseriously think, Harley, that the danger comes from there?"

Paul Harley took his dinner jacket from the chair upon which the manhad laid it out, and turned to me. 

"My dear Knox, " he said, "you may remember that I spoke, recently, ofretiring from this profession?"

"You did. "

"My retirement will not be voluntary, Knox. I shall be kicked out as anincompetent ass; for, respecting the connection, if any, between thenarrative of Colonel Menendez, the bat wing nailed to the door of thehouse, and Mr. Colin Camber, I have not the foggiest notion. In this, at last, I have triumphed over Auguste Dupin. Auguste Dupin neverconfessed defeat. "

CHAPTER X

THE NIGHT WALKER

If luncheon had seemed extravagant, dinner at Cray's Folly proved to bea veritable Roman banquet. To associate ideas of selfishness with MissBeverley was hateful, but the more I learned of the luxurious life ofthis queer household hidden away in the Surrey Hills the less Iwondered at any one's consenting to share such exile. I had hithertocounted an American freak dinner, organized by a lucky plunger and heldat the Café de Paris, as the last word in extravagant feasting. But Ilearned now that what was caviare in Monte Carlo was ordinary fare atCray's Folly. 

Colonel Menendez was an epicure with an endless purse. The excellenceof one of the courses upon which I had commented led to a curiousincident. 

"You approve of the efforts of my chef?" said the Colonel. 

"He is worthy of his employer, " I replied. 

Colonel Menendez bowed in his cavalierly fashion and Madame de Stämerpositively beamed upon me. 

"You shall speak for him, " said the Spaniard. "He was with me in Cuba, but has no reputation in London. There are hotels that would snap himup. "

I looked at the speaker in surprise. 

"Surely he is not leaving you?" I asked. 

The Colonel exhibited a momentary embarrassment. 

"No, no. No, no, " he replied, waving his hand gracefully, "I was onlythinking that he--" there was a scarcely perceptible pause--"might wishto better himself. You understand?"

I understood only too well; and recollecting the words spoken by PaulHarley that afternoon, respecting the Colonel's will to live, I becameconscious of an uncomfortable sense of chill. 

If I had doubted that in so speaking he had been contemplating his owndeath, the behaviour of Madame de Stämer must have convinced me. Hercomplexion was slightly but cleverly made up, with all the exquisiteart of the Parisienne, but even through the artificial bloom I saw hercheeks blanch. Her face grew haggard and her eyes burned unnaturally. She turned quickly aside to address Paul Harley, but I knew that thesignificance of this slight episode had not escaped him. 

He was by no means at ease. In the first place, he was badly puzzled;in the second place, he was angry. He felt it incumbent upon him tosave this man from a menace which he, Paul Harley, evidently recognizedto be real, although to me it appeared wildly chimerical, and the veryperson upon whose active coöperation he naturally counted not onlyseemed resigned to his fate, but by deliberate omission of importantdata added to Harley's difficulties. 

How much of this secret drama proceeding in Cray's Folly wasappreciated by Val Beverley I could not determine. On this occasion, Iremember, she was simply but perfectly dressed and, in my eyes, seemedthe most sweetly desirable woman I had ever known. Realizing that I hadalready revealed my interest in the girl, I was oddly self-conscious, and a hundred times during the progress of dinner I glanced across atHarley, expecting to detect his quizzical smile. He was very stern, however, and seemed more reserved than usual. He was uncertain of hisground, I could see. He resented the understanding which evidentlyexisted between Colonel Menendez and Madame de Stämer, and to which, although his aid had been sought, he was not admitted. 

It seemed to me, personally, that an almost palpable shadow lay uponthe room. Although, save for this one lapse, our host throughout talkedgaily and entertainingly, I was obsessed by a memory of the expressionwhich I had detected upon his face that morning, the expression of adoomed man. 

What, in Heaven's name, I asked myself, did it all mean? If ever I sawthe fighting spirit looking out of any man's eyes, it looked out of theeyes of Don Juan Sarmiento Menendez. Why, then, did he lie down to themenace of this mysterious Bat Wing, and if he counted oppositionfutile, why had he summoned Paul Harley to Cray's Folly?

With the passing of every moment I sympathized more fully with theperplexity of my friend, and no longer wondered that even his highlyspecialized faculties had failed to detect an explanation. 

Remembering Colin Camber as I had seen him at the Lavender Arms, it wassimply impossible to suppose that such a man as Menendez could fearsuch a man as Camber. True, I had seen the latter at a disadvantage, and I knew well enough that many a genius has been also a drunkard. Butalthough I was prepared to find that Colin Camber possessed genius, Ifound it hard to believe that this was of a criminal type. That such acharacter could be the representative of some remote negro society wasan idea too grotesque to be entertained for a moment. 

I was tempted to believe that his presence in the neighbourhood of thishaunted Cuban was one of those strange coincidences which in criminalhistory have sometimes proved so tragic for their victims. 

Madame de Stämer, avoiding the Colonel's glances, which werepathetically apologetic, gradually recovered herself, and:

"My dear, " she said to Val Beverley, "you look perfectly sweet to-night. Don't you think she looks perfectly sweet, Mr. Knox?"

Ignoring a look of entreaty from the blue-gray eyes:

"Perfectly, " I replied. 

"Oh, Mr. Knox, " cried the girl, "why do you encourage her? She saysembarrassing things like that every time I put on a new dress. "

Her reference to a new dress set me speculating again upon the apparentanomaly of her presence at Cray's Folly. That she was not aprofessional "companion" was clear enough. I assumed that her fatherhad left her suitably provided for, since she wore such expensivelysimple gowns. She had a delightful trick of blushing when attention wasfocussed upon her, and said Madame de Stämer:

"To be able to blush like that I would give my string of pearls--no, half of it. "

"My dear Marie, " declared Colonel Menendez, "I have seen you blushperfectly. "

"No, no, " Madame disclaimed the suggestion with one of those Bernhardtgestures, "I blushed my last blush when my second husband introduced meto my first husband's wife. "

"Madame!" exclaimed Val Beverley, "how can you say such things?" Sheturned to me. "Really, Mr. Knox, they are all fables. "

"In fables we renew our youth, " said Madame. 

"Ah, " sighed Colonel Menendez; "our youth, our youth. "

"Why sigh, Juan, why regret?" cried Madame, immediately. "Old age isonly tragic to those who have never been young. "

She directed a glance toward him as she spoke those words, and as I hadfelt when I had seen his tragic face on the veranda that morning I feltagain in detecting this look of Madame de Stämer's. The yearning yetselfless love which it expressed was not for my eyes to witness. 

"Thank God, Marie, " replied the Colonel, and gallantly kissed his handto her, "we have both been young, gloriously young. "

When, at the termination of this truly historic dinner, the ladies leftus:

"Remember, Juan, " said Madame, raising her white, jewelled hand, andholding the fingers characteristically curled, "no excitement, nobilliards, no cards. "

Colonel Menendez bowed deeply, as the invalid wheeled herself from theroom, followed by Miss Beverley. My heart was beating delightfully, forin the moment of departure the latter had favoured me with asignificant glance, which seemed to say, "I am looking forward to achat with you presently. "

"Ah, " said Colonel Menendez, when we three men found ourselves alone, "truly I am blessed in the autumn of my life with such charmingcompanionship. Beauty and wit, youth and discretion. Is he not a happyman who possesses all these?"

"He should be, " said Harley, gravely. 

The saturnine Pedro entered with some wonderful crusted port, andColonel Menendez offered cigars. 

"I believe you are a pipe-smoker, " said our courteous host to Harley, "and if this is so, I know that you will prefer your favourite mixtureto any cigar that ever was rolled. "

"Many thanks, " said Harley, to whom no more delicate compliment couldhave been paid. 

He was indeed an inveterate pipe-smoker, and only rarely did he trulyenjoy a cigar, however choice its pedigree. With a sigh of content hebegan to fill his briar. His mood was more restful, and covertly Iwatched him studying our host. The night remained very warm and one ofthe two windows of the dining room, which was the most homely apartmentin Cray's Folly, was wide open, offering a prospect of sweeping velvetlawns touched by the magic of the moonlight. 

A short silence fell, to be broken by the Colonel. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "I trust you do not regret your fishingexcursion?"

"I could cheerfully pass the rest of my days in such idealsurroundings, " replied Paul Harley. 

I nodded in agreement. 

"But, " continued my friend, speaking very deliberately, "I have toremember that I am here upon business, and that my professionalreputation is perhaps at stake. "

He stared very hard at Colonel Menendez. 

"I have spoken with your butler, known as Pedro, and with some of theother servants, and have learned all that there is to be learned aboutthe person unknown who gained admittance to the house a month ago, andconcerning the wing of a bat, found attached to the door morerecently. "

"And to what conclusion have you come?" asked Colonel Menendez, eagerly. 

He bent forward, resting his elbows upon his knees, a pose which hefrequently adopted. He was smoking a cigar, but his total absorption inthe topic under discussion was revealed by the fact that from a pocketin his dinner jacket he had taken out a portion of tobacco, had laid itin a slip of rice paper, and was busily rolling one of his eternalcigarettes. 

"I might be enabled to come to one, " replied Harley, "if you wouldanswer a very simple question. "

"What is this question?"

"It is this--Have you any idea who nailed the bat's wing to your door?"

Colonel Menendez's eyes opened very widely, and his face became moreaquiline than ever. 

"You have heard my story, Mr. Harley, " he replied, softly. "If I knowthe explanation, why do I come to you?"

Paul Harley puffed at his pipe. His expression did not alter in theslightest. 

"I merely wondered if your suspicions tended in the direction of Mr. Colin Camber, " he said. 

"Colin Camber!"

As the Colonel spoke the name either I became victim of a strangedelusion or his face was momentarily convulsed. If my senses served mearight then his pronouncing of the words "Colin Camber" occasioned himpositive agony. He clutched the arms of his chair, striving, I thought, to retain composure, and in this he succeeded, for when he spoke againhis voice was quite normal. 

"Have you any particular reason for your remark, Mr. Harley?"

"I have a reason, " replied Paul Harley, "but don't misunderstand me. Isuggest nothing against Mr. Camber. I should be glad, however, to knowif you are acquainted with him?"

"We have never met. "

"You possibly know him by repute?"

"I have heard of him, Mr. Harley. But to be perfectly frank, I havelittle in common with citizens of the United States. "

A note of arrogance, which at times crept into his high, thin voice, became perceptible now, and the aristocratic, aquiline face looked verysupercilious. 

How the conversation would have developed I know not, but at thismoment Pedro entered and delivered a message in Spanish to the Colonel, whereupon the latter arose and with very profuse apologies beggedpermission to leave us for a few moments. 

When he had retired:

"I am going upstairs to write a letter, Knox, " said Paul Harley. "Carryon with your old duties to-day, your new ones do not commence until to-morrow. "

With that he laughed and walked out of the dining room, leaving mewondering whether to be grateful or annoyed. However, it did not takeme long to find my way to the drawing room where the two ladies wereseated side by side upon a settee, Madame's chair having been wheeledinto a corner. 

"Ah, Mr. Knox, " exclaimed Madame as I entered, "have the othersdeserted, then?"

"Scarcely deserted, I think. They are merely straggling. "

"Absent without leave, " murmured Val Beverley. 

I laughed, and drew up a chair. Madame de Stämer was smoking, but MissBeverley was not. Accordingly, I offered her a cigarette, which sheaccepted, and as I was lighting it with elaborate care, every momentfinding a new beauty in her charming face, Pedro again appeared andaddressed some remark in Spanish to Madame. 

"My chair, Pedro, " she said; "I will come at once. "

The Spanish butler wheeled the chair across to the settee, and liftingher with an ease which spoke of long practice, placed her amidst thecushions where she spent so many hours of her life. 

"I know you will excuse me, dear, " she said to Val Beverley, "because Ifeel sure that Mr. Knox will do his very best to make up for myabsence. Presently, I shall be back. "

Pedro holding the door open, she went wheeling out, and I found myselfalone with Val Beverley. 

At the time I was much too delighted to question the circumstanceswhich had led to this tête-à-tête, but had I cared to give the matterany consideration, it must have presented rather curious features. Thecall first of host and then of hostess was inconsistent with thecourtesy of the master of Cray's Folly, which, like the appointments ofhis home and his mode of life, was elaborate. But these ideas did nottrouble me at the moment. 

Suddenly, however, indeed before I had time to speak, the girl startedand laid her hand upon my arm. 

"Did you hear something?" she whispered, "a queer sort of sound?"

"No, " I replied, "what kind of sound?"

"An odd sort of sound, almost like--the flapping of wings. "

I saw that she had turned pale, I saw the confirmation of somethingwhich I had only partly realised before: that her life at Cray's Follywas a constant fight against some haunting shadow. Her gaiety, herlightness, were but a mask. For now, in those wide-open eyes, I readabsolute horror. 

"Miss Beverley, " I said, grasping her hand reassuringly, "you alarm me. What has made you so nervous to-night?"

"To-night!" she echoed, "to-night? It is every night. If you had notcome--" she corrected herself--"if someone had not come, I don't thinkI could have stayed. I am sure I could not have stayed. "

"Doubtless the attempted burglary alarmed you?" I suggested, intendingto sooth her fears. 

"Burglary?" She smiled unmirthfully. "It was no burglary. "

"Why do you say so, Miss Beverley?"

"Do you think I don't know why Mr. Harley is here?" she challenged. "Oh, believe me, I know--I know. I, too, saw the bat's wing nailed tothe door, Mr. Knox. You are surely not going to suggest that this wasthe work of a burglar?"

I seated myself beside her on the settee. 

"You have great courage, " I said. "Believe me, I quite understand allthat you have suffered. "

"Is my acting so poor?" she asked, with a pathetic smile. 

"No, it is wonderful, but to a sympathetic observer only acting, nevertheless. "

I noted that my presence reassured her, and was much comforted by thisfact. 

"Would you like to tell me all about it, " I continued; "or would thismerely renew your fears?"

"I should like to tell you, " she replied in a low voice, glancing abouther as if to make sure that we were alone. "Except for odd people, friends, I suppose, of the Colonel's, we have had so few visitors sincewe have been at Cray's Folly. Apart from all sorts of queer happeningswhich really"--she laughed nervously--"may have no significancewhatever, the crowning mystery to my mind is why Colonel Menendezshould have leased this huge house. "

"He does not entertain very much, then?"

"Scarcely at all. The 'County'--do you know what I mean by the'County?'--began by receiving him with open arms and ended by sendinghim to Coventry. His lavish style of entertainment they labelled'swank'--horrible word but very expressive! They concluded that theydid not understand him, and of everything they don't understand theydisapprove. So after the first month or so it became very lonely atCray's Folly. Our foreign servants--there are five of them altogether--got us a dreadfully bad name. Then, little by little, a sort of cloudseemed to settle on everything. The Colonel made two visits abroad, Idon't know exactly where he went, but on his return from the firstvisit Madame de Stämer changed. "

"Changed?--in what way?"

"I am afraid it would be hopeless to try to make you understand, Mr. Knox, but in some subtle way she changed. Underneath all her vivacityshe is a tragic woman, and--oh, how can I explain?" Val Beverley made alittle gesture of despair. 

"Perhaps you mean, " I suggested, "that she seemed to become even lesshappy than before?"

"Yes, " she replied, looking at me eagerly. "Has Colonel Menendez toldyou anything to account for it?"

"Nothing, " I said, "He has left us strangely in the dark. But you sayhe went abroad on a second and more recent occasion?"

"Yes, not much more than a month ago. And after that, somehow or other, matters seemed to come to a head. I confess I became horriblyfrightened, but to have left would have seemed like desertion, andMadame de Stämer has been so good to me. "

"Did you actually witness any of the episodes which took place about amonth ago?"

Val Beverley shook her head. 

"I never saw anything really definite, " she replied. 

"Yet, evidently you either saw or heard something which alarmed you. "

"Yes, that is true, but it is so difficult to explain. "

"Could you try to explain?"

"I will try if you wish, for really I am longing to talk to someoneabout it. For instance, on several occasions I have heard footsteps inthe corridor outside my room. "

"At night?"

"Yes, at night. "

"Strange footsteps?"

She nodded. 

"That is the uncanny part of it. You know how familiar one grows withthe footsteps of persons living in the same house? Well, thesefootsteps were quite unfamiliar to me. "

"And you say they passed your door?"

"Yes. My rooms are almost directly overhead. And right at the end ofthe corridor, that is on the southeast corner of the building, isColonel Menendez's bedroom, and facing it a sort of little smoke-room. It was in this direction that the footsteps went. "

"To Colonel Menendez's room?"

"Yes. They were light, furtive footsteps. "

"This took place late at night?"

"Quite late, long after everyone had retired. "

She paused, staring at me with a sort of embarrassment, and presently:

"Were the footsteps those of a man or a woman?" I asked. 

"Of a woman. Someone, Mr. Knox, " she bent forward, and that look offear began to creep into her eyes again, "with whose footsteps I wasquite unfamiliar. "

"You mean a stranger to the house?"

"Yes. Oh, it was uncanny. " She shuddered. "The first time I heard it Ihad been lying awake listening. I was nervous. Madame de Stämer hadtold me that morning that the Colonel had seen someone lurking aboutthe lawns on the previous night. Then, as I lay awake listening for theslightest sound, I suddenly detected these footsteps; and they paused--right outside my door. "

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "What did you do?"

"Frankly, I was too frightened to do anything. I just lay still with myheart beating horribly, and presently they passed on, and I heard themno more. "

"Was your door locked?"

"No. " She laughed nervously. "But it has been locked every night sincethen!"

"And these sounds were repeated on other nights?"

"Yes, I have often heard them, Mr. Knox. What makes it so strange isthat all the servants sleep out in the west wing, as you know, andPedro locks the communicating door every night before retiring. "

"It is certainly strange, " I muttered. 

"It is horrible, " declared the girl, almost in a whisper. "For what canit mean except that there is someone in Cray's Folly who is never seenduring the daytime?"

"But that is incredible. "

"It is not so incredible in a big house like this. Besides, what otherexplanation can there be?"

"There must be one, " I said, reassuringly. "Have you spoken of this toMadame de Stämer?"

"Yes. "

Val Beverley's expression grew troubled. 

"Had she any explanation to offer?"

"None. Her attitude mystified me very much. Indeed, instead ofreassuring me, she frightened me more than ever by her very silence. Igrew to dread the coming of each night. Then--" she hesitated again, looking at me pathetically--"twice I have been awakened by a loud cry. "

"What kind of cry?"

"I could not tell you, Mr. Knox. You see I have always been asleep whenit has come, but I have sat up trembling and dimly aware that what hadawakened me was a cry of some kind. "

"You have no idea from whence it proceeded?"

"None whatever. Of course, all these things may seem trivial to you, and possibly they can be explained in quite a simple way. But thisfeeling of something pending has grown almost unendurable. Then, Idon't understand Madame and the Colonel at all. "

She suddenly stopped speaking and flushed with embarrassment. 

"If you mean that Madame de Stämer is in love with her cousin, I agreewith you, " I said, quietly. 

"Oh, is it so evident as that?" murmured Val Beverley. She laughed tocover her confusion. "I wish I could understand what it all means. "

At this point our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the return of Madamede Stämer. 

"Oh, la la!" she cried, "the Colonel must have allowed himself tobecome too animated this evening. He is threatened with one of hisattacks and I have insisted upon his immediate retirement. He makes hisapologies, but knows you will understand. "

I expressed my concern, and:

"I was unaware that Colonel Menendez's health was impaired, " I said. 

"Ah, " Madame shrugged characteristically. "Juan has travelled too muchof the road of life on top speed, Mr. Knox. " She snapped her whitefingers and grimaced significantly. "Excitement is bad for him. "

She wheeled her chair up beside Val Beverley, and taking the girl'shand patted it affectionately. 

"You look pale to-night, my dear, " she said. "All this bogey businessis getting on your nerves, eh?"

"Oh, not at all, " declared the girl. "It is very mysterious andannoying, of course. "

"But M. Paul Harley will presently tell us what it is all about, "concluded Madame. "Yes, I trust so. We want no Cuban devils here atCray's Folly. "

I had hoped that she would speak further of the matter, but having thusapologized for our host's absence, she plunged into an amusing accountof Parisian society, and of the changes which five years of war hadbrought about. Her comments, although brilliant, were superficial, theonly point I recollect being her reference to a certain Baron Bergmann, a Swedish diplomat, who, according to Madame, had the longest nose andthe shortest memory in Paris, so that in the cold weather, "he evensometimes forgot to blow his nose. "

Her brightness I thought was almost feverish. She chattered and laughedand gesticulated, but on this occasion she was overacting. Underneathall her vivacity lay something cold and grim. 

Harley rejoined us in half an hour or so, but I could see that he wasas conscious of the air of tension as I was. All Madame's high spiritscould not enable her to conceal the fact that she was anxious toretire. But Harley's evident desire to do likewise surprised me verygreatly; for from the point of view of the investigation the day hadbeen an unsatisfactory one. I knew that there must be a hundred and onethings which my friend desired to know, questions which Madame deStämer could have answered. Nevertheless, at about ten o'clock weseparated for the night, and although I was intensely anxious to talkto Harley, his reticent mood had descended upon him again, and:

"Sleep well, Knox, " he said, as he paused at my door. "I may beawakening you early. "

With which cryptic remark and not another word he passed on and enteredhis own room. 

CHAPTER XI

THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND

Perhaps it was childish on my part, but I accepted this curt dismissalvery ill-humouredly. That Harley, for some reason of his own, wished tobe alone, was evident enough, but I resented being excluded from hisconfidence, even temporarily. It would seem that he had formed a theoryin the prosecution of which my coöperation was not needed. And whatwith profitless conjectures concerning its nature, and memories of ValBeverley's pathetic parting glance as we had bade one another good-night, sleep seemed to be out of the question, and I stood for a longtime staring out of the open window. 

The weather remained almost tropically hot, and the moon floated in acloudless sky. I looked down upon the closely matted leaves of the boxhedge, which rose to within a few feet of my window, and to the left Icould obtain a view of the close-hemmed courtyard before the doors ofCray's Folly. On the right the yews began, obstructing my view of theTudor garden, but the night air was fragrant, and the outlook one ofpeace. 

After a time, then, as no sound came from the adjoining room, I turnedin, and despite all things was soon fast asleep. 

Almost immediately, it seemed, I was awakened. In point of fact, nearlyfour hours had elapsed. A hand grasped my shoulder, and I sprang up inbed with a stifled cry, but:

"It's all right, Knox, " came Harley's voice. "Don't make a noise. "

"Harley!" I said. "Harley! what has happened?"

"Nothing, nothing. I am sorry to have to disturb your beauty sleep, butin the absence of Innes I am compelled to use you as a dictaphone, Knox. I like to record impressions while they are fresh, hence myhaving awakened you. "

"But what has happened?" I asked again, for my brain was not yet fullyalert. 

"No, don't light up!" said Harley, grasping my wrist as I reached outtoward the table-lamp. 

His figure showed as a black silhouette against the dim square of thewindow. 

"Why not?"

"Well, it's nearly two o'clock. The light might be observed. "

"Two o'clock?" I exclaimed. 

"Yes. I think we might smoke, though. Have you any cigarettes? I haveleft my pipe behind. "

I managed to find my case, and in the dim light of the match which Ipresently struck I saw that Paul Harley's face was very fixed and grim. He seated himself on the edge of my bed, and:

"I have been guilty of a breach of hospitality, Knox, " he began. "Notonly have I secretly had my own car sent down here, but I have hadsomething else sent, as well. I brought it in under my coat thisevening. "

"To what do you refer, Harley?"

"You remember the silken rope-ladder with bamboo rungs which I broughtfrom Hongkong on one occasion?"

"Yes--"

"Well, I have it in my bag now. "

"But, my dear fellow, what possible use can it be to you at Cray'sFolly?"

"It has been of great use, " he returned, shortly. 

"It enabled me to descend from my window a couple of hours ago and toreturn again quite recently without disturbing the household. Don'treproach me, Knox. I know it is a breach of confidence, but so is thebehaviour of Colonel Menendez. "

"You refer to his reticence on certain points?"

"I do. I have a reputation to lose, Knox, and if an ingenious piece ofChinese workmanship can save it, it shall be saved. "

"But, my dear Harley, why should you want to leave the house secretlyat night?"

Paul Harley's cigarette glowed in the dark, then:

"My original object, " he replied, "was to endeavour to learn if any onewere really watching the place. For instance, I wanted to see if alllights were out at the Guest House. "

"And were they?" I asked, eagerly. 

"They were. Secondly, " he continued, "I wanted to convince myself thatthere were no nocturnal prowlers from within or without. "

"What do you mean by within or without?"

"Listen, Knox. " He bent toward me in the dark, grasping my shoulderfirmly. "One window in Cray's Folly was lighted up. "

"At what hour?"

"The light is there yet. "

That he was about to make some strange revelation I divined. I detectedthe fact, too, that he believed this revelation would be unpleasant tome; and in this I found an explanation of his earlier behaviour. He hadseemed distraught and ill at ease when he had joined Madame de Stämer, Miss Beverley, and myself in the drawing room. I could only supposethat this and the abrupt parting with me outside my door had been dueto his holding a theory which he had proposed to put to the test beforeconfiding it to me. I remember that I spoke very slowly as I asked himthe question:

"Whose is the lighted window, Harley?"

"Has Colonel Menendez taken you into a little snuggery or smoke-roomwhich faces his bedroom in the southeast corner of the house?"

"No, but Miss Beverley has mentioned the room. "

"Ah. Well, there is a light in that room, Knox. "

"Possibly the Colonel has not retired?"

"According to Madame de Stämer he went to bed several hours ago, youmay remember. "

"True, " I murmured, fumbling for the significance of his words. 

"The next point is this, " he resumed. "You saw Madame retire to her ownroom, which, as you know, is on the ground floor, and I have satisfiedmyself that the door communicating with the servants' wing is locked. "

"I see. But to what is all this leading, Harley?"

"To a very curious fact, and the fact is this: The Colonel is notalone. "

I sat bolt upright. 

"What?" I cried. 

"Not so loud, " warned Harley. 

"But, Harley--"

"My dear fellow, we must face facts. I repeat, the Colonel is notalone. "

"Why do you say so?"

"Twice I have seen a shadow on the blind of the smoke-room. "

"His own shadow, probably. "

Again Paul Harley's cigarette glowed in the darkness. 

"I am prepared to swear, " he replied, "that it was the shadow of awoman. "

"Harley----"

"Don't get excited, Knox. I am dealing with the strangest case of mycareer, and I am jumping to no conclusions. But just let us look at thecircumstances judicially. The whole of the domestic staff we maydismiss, with the one exception of Mrs. Fisher, who, so far as I canmake out, occupies the position of a sort of working housekeeper, andwhose rooms are in the corner of the west wing immediately facing thekitchen garden. Possibly you have not met Mrs. Fisher, Knox, but I havemade it my business to interview the whole of the staff and I may saythat Mrs. Fisher is a short, stout old lady, a native of Kent, Ibelieve, whose outline in no way corresponds to that which I saw uponthe blind. Therefore, unless the door which communicates with theservants' quarters was unlocked again to-night--to what are we reducedin seeking to explain the presence of a woman in Colonel Menendez'sroom? Madame de Stämer, unassisted, could not possibly have mounted thestairs. "

"Stop, Harley!" I said, sternly. "Stop. "

He ceased speaking, and I watched the steady glow of his cigarette inthe darkness. It lighted up his bronzed face and showed me the steelygleam of his eyes. 

"You are counting too much on the locking of the door by Pedro, " Icontinued, speaking very deliberately. "He is a man I would trust nofarther than I could see him, and if there is anything dark underlyingthis matter you depend that he is involved in it. But the most naturalexplanation, and also the most simple, is this--Colonel Menendez hasbeen taken seriously ill, and someone is in his room in the capacity ofa nurse. "

"Her behaviour was scarcely that of a nurse in a sick-room, " murmuredHarley. 

"For God's sake tell me the truth, " I said. "Tell me all you saw. "

"I am quite prepared to do so, Knox. On three occasions, then, I sawthe figure of a woman, who wore some kind of loose robe, quite clearlysilhouetted upon the linen blind. Her gestures strongly resembled thoseof despair. "

"Of despair?"

"Exactly. I gathered that she was addressing someone, presumablyColonel Menendez, and I derived a strong impression that she was in acondition of abject despair. "

"Harley, " I said, "on your word of honour did you recognize anything inthe movements, or in the outline of the figure, by which you couldidentify the woman?"

"I did not, " he replied, shortly. "It was a woman who wore some kind ofloose robe, possibly a kimono. Beyond that I could swear to nothing, except that it was not Mrs. Fisher. "

We fell silent for a while. What Paul Harley's thoughts may have been Iknow not, but my own were strange and troubled. Presently I found myvoice again, and:

"I think, Harley, " I said, "that I should report to you something whichMiss Beverley told me this evening. "

"Yes?" said he, eagerly. "I am anxious to hear anything which may be ofthe slightest assistance. You are no doubt wondering why I retired soabruptly to-night. My reason was this: I could see that you were fullof some story which you had learned from Miss Beverley, and I wasanxious to perform my tour of inspection with a perfectly unprejudicedmind. "

"You mean that your suspicions rested upon an inmate of Cray's Folly?"

"Not upon any particular inmate, but I had early perceived a distinctpossibility that these manifestations of which the Colonel complainedmight be due to the agency of someone inside the house. That thisperson might be no more than an accomplice of the prime mover I alsorecognized, of course. But what did you learn to-night, Knox?"

I repeated Val Beverley's story of the mysterious footsteps and of thecries which had twice awakened her in the night. 

"Hm, " muttered Harley, when I had ceased speaking. "Assuming heraccount to be true----"

"Why should you doubt it?" I interrupted, hotly. 

"My dear Knox, it is my business to doubt everything until I haveindisputable evidence of its truth. I say, assuming her story to betrue, we find ourselves face to face with the fantastic theory thatsome woman unknown is living secretly in Cray's Folly. "

"Perhaps in one of the tower rooms, " I suggested, eagerly. "Why, Harley, that would account for the Colonel's marked unwillingness totalk about this part of the house. "

My sight was now becoming used to the dusk, and I saw Harley vigorouslyshake his head. 

"No, no, " he replied; "I have seen all the tower rooms. I can swearthat no one inhabits them. Besides, is it feasible?"

"Then whose were the footsteps that Miss Beverley heard?"

"Obviously those of the woman who, at this present moment, so far as Iknow, is in the smoking-room with Colonel Menendez. "

I sighed wearily. 

"This is a strange business, Harley. I begin to think that the mysteryis darker than I ever supposed. "

We fell silent again. The weird cry of a night hawk came from somewherein the valley, but otherwise everything within and without the greathouse seemed strangely still. This stillness presently imposed itsinfluence upon me, for when I spoke again, I spoke in a low voice. 

"Harley, " I said, "my imagination is playing me tricks. I thought Iheard the fluttering of wings at that moment. "

"Fortunately, my imagination remains under control, " he replied, grimly; "therefore I am in a position to inform you that you did hearthe fluttering of wings. An owl has just flown into one of the treesimmediately outside the window. "

"Oh, " said I, and uttered a sigh of relief. 

"It is extremely fortunate that my imagination is so carefullytrained, " continued Harley; "otherwise, when the woman whose shadow Isaw upon the blind to-night raised her arms in a peculiar fashion, Icould not well have failed to attach undue importance to the shape ofthe shadow thus created. "

"What was the shape of the shadow, then?"

"Remarkably like that of a bat. "

He spoke the words quietly, but in that still darkness, with dawn yet along way off, they possessed the power which belongs to certain chordsin music, and to certain lines in poetry. I was chilled unaccountably, and I peopled the empty corridors of Cray's Folly with I know not whatuncanny creatures; nightmare fancies conjured up from memories ofhaunted manors. 

Such was my mood, then, when suddenly Paul Harley stood up. My eyeswere growing more and more used to the darkness, and from somethingstrained in his attitude I detected the fact that he was listeningintently. 

He placed his cigarette on the table beside the bed and quietly crossedthe room. I knew from his silent tread that he wore shoes with rubbersoles. Very quietly he turned the handle and opened the door. 

"What is it, Harley?" I whispered. 

Dimly I saw him raise his hand. Inch by inch he opened the door. Mynerves in a state of tension, I sat there watching him, when without asound he slipped out of the room and was gone. Thereupon I arose andfollowed as far as the doorway. 

Harley was standing immediately outside in the corridor. Seeing me, hestepped back, and: "Don't move, Knox, " he said, speaking very close tomy ear. "There is someone downstairs in the hall. Wait for me here. "

With that he moved stealthily off, and I stood there, my heart beatingwith unusual rapidity, listening--listening for a challenge, a cry, ascuffle--I knew not what to expect. 

Cavernous and dimly lighted, the corridor stretched away to my left. Onthe right it branched sharply in the direction of the galleryoverlooking the hall. 

The seconds passed, but no sound rewarded my alert listening--until, very faintly, but echoing in a muffled, church-like fashion around thatpeculiar building, came a slight, almost sibilant sound, which I tookto be the gentle closing of a distant door. 

Whilst I was still wondering if I had really heard this sound or merelyimagined it:

"Who goes there?" came sharply in Harley's voice. 

I heard a faint click, and knew that he had shone the light of anelectric torch down into the hall. 

I hesitated no longer, but ran along to join him. As I came to the headof the main staircase, however, I saw him crossing the hall below. Hewas making in the direction of the door which shut off the servants'quarters. Here he paused, and I saw him trying the handle. Evidentlythe door was locked, for he turned and swept the white ray all aboutthe place. He tried several other doors, but found them all to belocked, for presently he came upstairs again, smiling grimly when hesaw me there awaiting him. 

"Did you hear it, Knox?" he said. 

"A sound like the closing of a door?"

Paul Harley nodded. 

"It _was_ the closing of a door, " he replied; "but before that Ihad distinctly heard a stair creak. Someone crossed the hall then, Knox. Yet, as you perceive for yourself, it affords no hiding-place. "

His glance met and challenged mine. 

"The Colonel's visitor has left him, " he murmured. "Unless somethingquite unforeseen occurs, I shall throw up the case to-morrow. "

CHAPTER XII

MORNING MISTS

The man known as Manoel awakened me in the morning. Althoughcharacteristically Spanish, he belonged to a more sanguine type thanthe butler and spoke much better English than Pedro. He placed upon thetable beside me a tray containing a small pot of China tea, an apple, a peach, and three slices of toast. 

"How soon would you like your bath, sir?" he enquired. 

"In about half an hour, " I replied. 

"Breakfast is served at 9. 30 if you wish, sir, " continued Manoel, "butthe ladies rarely come down. Would you prefer to breakfast in yourroom?"

"What is Mr. Harley doing?"

"He tells me that he does not take breakfast, sir. Colonel Don JuanMenendez will be unable to ride with you this morning, but a groom willaccompany you to the heath if you wish, which is the best place for agallop. Breakfast on the south veranda is very pleasant, sir, if youare riding first. "

"Good, " I replied, for indeed I felt strangely heavy; "it shall be theheath, then, and breakfast on the veranda. "

Having drunk a cup of tea and dressed I went into Harley's room, tofind him propped up in bed reading the _Daily Telegraph_ and smoking acigarette. 

"I am off for a ride, " I said. "Won't you join me?"

He fixed his pillows more comfortably, and slowly shook his head. 

"Not a bit of it, Knox, " he replied, "I find exercise to be fatal toconcentration. "

"I know you have weird theories on the subject, but this is a beautifulmorning. "

"I grant you the beautiful morning, Knox, but here you will find mewhen you return. "

I knew him too well to debate the point, and accordingly I left him tohis newspaper and cigarette, and made my way downstairs. A housemaidwas busy in the hall, and in the courtyard before the monastic porch anegro groom awaited me with two fine mounts. He touched his hat andgrinned expansively as I appeared. A spirited young chestnut wassaddled for my use, and the groom, who informed me that his name wasJim, rode a smaller, Spanish horse, a beautiful but rather wicked-looking creature. 

We proceeded down the drive. Pedro was standing at the door of thelodge, talking to his surly-looking daughter. He saluted me veryceremoniously as I passed. 

Pursuing an easterly route for a quarter of a mile or so, we came to anarrow lane which branched off to the left in a tremendous declivity. Indeed it presented the appearance of the dry bed of a mountaintorrent, and in wet weather a torrent this lane became, so I wasinformed by Jim. It was very rugged and dangerous, and here wedismounted, the groom leading the horses. 

Then we were upon a well-laid main road, and along this we trotted onto a tempting stretch of heath-land. There was a heavy mist, but thescent of the heather in the early morning was delightful, and there wassomething exhilarating in the dull thud of the hoofs upon the springyturf. The negro was a natural horseman, and he seemed to enjoy the rideevery bit as much as I did. For my own part I was sorry to return. Butthe vapours of the night had been effectively cleared from my mind, andwhen presently we headed again for the hills, I could think more coollyof those problems which overnight had seemed well-nigh insoluble. 

We returned by a less direct route, but only at one point was the pathso steep as that by which we had descended. This brought us out on aroad above and about a mile to the south of Cray's Folly. At one point, through a gap in the trees, I found myself looking down at the graystone building in its setting of velvet lawns and gaily patternedgardens. A faint mist hovered like smoke over the grass. 

Five minutes later we passed a queer old Jacobean house, so deeplyhidden amidst trees that the early morning sun had not yet penetratedto it, except for one upstanding gable which was bathed in goldenlight. I should never have recognized the place from that aspect, butbecause of its situation I knew that this must be the Guest House. Itseemed very gloomy and dark, and remembering how I was pledged to callupon Mr. Colin Camber that day, I apprehended that my reception mightbe a cold one. 

Presently we left the road and cantered across the valley meadows, inwhich I had walked on the previous day, reentering Cray's Folly on thesouth, although we had left it on the north. We dismounted in thestable-yard, and I noted two other saddle horses in the stalls, a pairof very clean-looking hunters, as well as two perfectly matched ponies, which, Jim informed me, Madame de Stämer sometimes drove in a chaise. 

Feeling vastly improved by the exercise, I walked around to theveranda, and through the drawing room to the hall. Manoel was standingthere, and:

"Your bath is ready, sir, " he said. 

I nodded and went upstairs. It seemed to me that life at Cray's Follywas quite agreeable, and such was my mood that the shadowy Bat Wingmenace found no place in it save as the chimera of a sick man'simagination. One thing only troubled me: the identity of the woman whohad been with Colonel Menendez on the previous night. 

However, such unconscious sun worshippers are we all that in the gloryof that summer morning I realized that life was good, and I resolutelyput behind me the dark suspicions of the night. 

I looked into Harley's room ere descending, and, as he had assured mewould be the case, there he was, propped up in bed, the _DailyTelegraph_ upon the floor beside him and the _Times_ now openupon the coverlet. 

"I am ravenously hungry, " I said, maliciously, "and am going down toeat a hearty breakfast. "

"Good, " he returned, treating me to one of his quizzical smiles. "It isdelightful to know that someone is happy. "

Manoel had removed my unopened newspapers from the bedroom, placingthem on the breakfast table on the south veranda; and I had propped the_Mail_ up before me and had commenced to explore a juicy grapefruitwhen something, perhaps a faint breath of perfume, a slight rustle ofdraperies, or merely that indefinable aura which belongs to thepresence of a woman, drew my glance upward and to the left. Andthere was Val Beverley smiling down at me. 

"Good morning, Mr. Knox, " she said. "Oh, please don't interrupt yourbreakfast. May I sit down and talk to you?"

"I should be most annoyed if you refused. "

She was dressed in a simple summery frock which left her round, sun-browned arms bare above the elbow, and she laid a huge bunch of rosesupon the table beside my tray. 

"I am the florist of the establishment, " she explained. "These willdelight your eyes at luncheon. Don't you think we are a lot ofbarbarians here, Mr. Knox?"

"Why?"

"Well, if I had not taken pity upon you, here you would have bat over alonely breakfast just as though you were staying at a hotel. "

"Delightful, " I replied, "now that you are here. "

"Ah, " said she, and smiled roguishly, "that afterthought just savedyou. "

"But honestly, " I continued, "the hospitality of Colonel Menendez istrue hospitality. To expect one's guests to perform their parlourtricks around a breakfast table in the morning is, on the other hand, true barbarism. "

"I quite agree with you, " she said, quietly. "There is a perfectlydelightful freedom about the Colonel's way of living. Only some horridold Victorian prude could possibly take exception to it. Did you enjoyyour ride?"

"Immensely, " I replied, watching her delightedly as she arranged theroses in carefully blended groups. 

Her fingers were very delicate and tactile, and such is the characterwhich resides in the human hand, that whereas the gestures of Madame deStämer were curiously stimulating, there was something in the movementof Val Beverley's pretty fingers amidst the blooms which I found mostsoothing. 

"I passed the Guest House on my return, " I continued. "Do you know Mr. Camber?"

She looked at me in a startled way. 

"No, " she replied, "I don't. Do you?"

"I met him by chance yesterday. "

"Really? I thought he was quite unapproachable; a sort of ogre. "

"On the contrary, he is a man of great charm. "

"Oh, " said Val Beverley, "well, since you have said so, I might as welladmit that he has always seemed a charming man to me. I have neverspoken to him, but he looks as though he could be very fascinating. Have you met his wife?"

"No. Is she also American?"

My companion shook her head. 

"I have no idea, " she replied. "I have seen her several times ofcourse, and she is one of the daintiest creatures imaginable, but Iknow nothing about her nationality. "

"She is young, then?"

"Very young, I should say. She looks quite a child. "

"The reason of my interest, " I replied, "is that Mr. Camber asked me tocall upon him, and I propose to do so later this morning. "

"Really?"

Again I detected the startled expression upon Val Beverley's face. 

"That is rather curious, since you are staying here. "

"Why?"

"Well, " she looked about her nervously, "I don't know the reason, butthe name of Mr. Camber is anathema in Cray's Folly. "

"Colonel Menendez told me last night that he had never met Mr. Camber. "

Val Beverley shrugged her shoulders, a habit which it was easy to seeshe had acquired from Madame de Stämer. 

"Perhaps not, " she replied, "but I am certain he hates him. "

"Hates Mr. Camber?"

"Yes. " Her expression grew troubled. "It is another of those mysterieswhich seem to be part of Colonel Menendez's normal existence. "

"And is this dislike mutual?"

"That I cannot say, since I have never met Mr. Camber. "

"And Madame de Stämer, does she share it?"

"Fully, I think. But don't ask me what it means, because I don't know. "

She dismissed the subject with a light gesture and poured me out asecond cup of coffee. 

"I am going to leave you now, " she said. "I have to justify myexistence in my own eyes. "

"Must you really go?"

"I must really. "

"Then tell me something before you go. "

She gathered up the bunches of roses and looked down at me with awistful expression. 

"Yes, what is it?"

"Did you detect those mysterious footsteps again last night?"

The look of wistfulness changed to another which I hated to see in hereyes, an expression of repressed fear. 

"No, " she replied in a very low voice, "but why do you ask thequestion?"

Doubt of her had been far enough from my mind, but that something inthe tone of my voice had put her on her guard I could see. 

"I am naturally curious, " I replied, gravely. 

"No, " she repeated, "I have not heard the sound for some time now. Perhaps, after all, my fears were imaginary. "

There was a constraint in her manner which was all too obvious, andwhen presently, laden with the spoil of the rose garden, she gave me aparting smile and hurried into the house, I sat there very still for awhile, and something of the brightness had faded from the coming, nordid life seem so glad a business as I had thought it quite recently. 

CHAPTER XIII

AT THE GUEST HOUSE

I presented myself at the Guest House at half-past eleven. My mentalstate was troubled and indescribably complex. Perhaps my own uneasy, thoughts were responsible for the idea, but it seemed to me that theatmosphere of Cray's Folly had changed yet again. Never before had Iexperienced a sense of foreboding like that which had possessed methroughout the hours of this bright summer's morning. 

Colonel Menendez had appeared about nine o'clock. He exhibiting notraces of illness that were perceptible to me. But this subtle changewhich I had detected, or thought I had detected, was more marked inMadame Stämer than in any one. In her strange, still eyes I had readwhat I can only describe as a stricken look. It had none of the heroicresignation and acceptance of the inevitable which had so startled mein the face of the Colonel on the previous day. There was a bitternessin it, as of one who has made a great but unwilling sacrifice, andagain I had found myself questing that faint but fugitive memory, conjured up by the eyes of Madame de Stämer. 

Never had the shadow lain so darkly upon the house as it lay thismorning with the sun blazing gladly out of a serene sky. The birds, theflowers, and Mother Earth herself bespoke the joy of summer. Butbeneath the roof of Cray's Folly dwelt a spirit of unrest, ofapprehension. I thought of that queer lull which comes before atropical storm, and I thought I read a knowledge of pending evil evenin the glances of the servants. 

I had spoken to Harley of this fear. He had smiled and nodded grimly, saying:

"Evidently, Knox, you have forgotten that to-night is the night of thefull moon. "

It was in no easy state of mind, then, that I opened the gate andwalked up to the porch of the Guest House. That the solution of thegrand mystery of Cray's Folly would automatically resolve these lessermysteries I felt assured, and I was supported by the idea that a cluemight lie here. 

The house, which from the roadway had an air of neglect, proved onclose inspection to be well tended, but of an unprosperous aspect. Thebrass knocker, door knob, and letter box were brilliantly polished, whilst the windows and the window curtains were spotlessly clean. Butthe place cried aloud for the service of the decorator, and it did notneed the deductive powers of a Paul Harley to determine that Mr. ColinCamber was in straitened circumstances. 

In response to my ringing the door was presently opened by Ah Tsong. His yellow face exhibited no trace of emotion whatever. He merelyopened the door and stood there looking at me. 

"Is Mr. Camber at home?" I enquired. 

"Master no got, " crooned Ah Tsong. 

He proceeded quietly to close the door again. 

"One moment, " I said, "one moment. I wish, at any rate, to leave mycard. "

Ah Tsong allowed the door to remain open, but:

"No usee palaber so fashion, " he said. "No feller comee here. Sabby?"

"I savvy, right enough, " said I, "but all the same you have got to takemy card in to Mr. Camber. "

I handed him a card as I spoke, and suddenly addressing him in"pidgin, " of which, fortunately, I had a smattering:

"Belong very quick, Ah Tsong, " I said, sharply, "or plenty big trouble, savvy?"

"Sabby, sabby, " he muttered, nodding his head; and leaving me standingin the porch he retired along the sparsely carpeted hall. 

This hall was very gloomily lighted, but I could see several pieces ofmassive old furniture and a number of bookcases, all looking incrediblyuntidy. 

Rather less than a minute elapsed, I suppose, when from some place atthe farther end of the hallway Mr. Camber appeared in person. He wore athreadbare dressing gown, the silken collar and cuffs of which werevery badly frayed. His hair was dishevelled and palpably he had notshaved this morning. 

He was smoking a corncob pipe, and he slowly approached, glancing fromthe card which he held in his hand in my direction, and then back againat the card, with a curious sort of hesitancy. In spite of his untidyappearance I could not fail to mark the dignity of his bearing, and thealmost arrogant angle at which he held his head. 

"Mr--er--Malcolm Knox?" he began, fixing his large eyes upon me with alook in which I could detect no sign of recognition. "I am advised thatyou desire to see me?"

"That is so, Mr. Camber, " I replied, cheerily. "I fear I haveinterrupted your work, but as no other opportunity may occur ofrenewing an acquaintance which for my part I found extremely pleasant--"

"Of renewing an acquaintance, you say, Mr. Knox?"

"Yes. "

"Quite. " He looked me up and down critically. "To be sure, we have metbefore, I understand?"

"We met yesterday, Mr. Camber, you may recall. Having chanced to comeacross a contribution of yours of the _Occult Review_, I haveavailed myself of your invitation to drop in for a chat. "

His expression changed immediately and the sombre eyes lighted up. 

"Ah, of course, " he cried, "you are a student of the transcendental. Forgive my seeming rudeness, Mr. Knox, but indeed my memory is of thepoorest. Pray come in, sir; your visit is very welcome. "

He held the door wide open, and inclined his head in a gesture ofcurious old-world courtesy which was strange in so young a man. Andcongratulating myself upon the happy thought which had enabled me towin such instant favour, I presently found myself in a study which Idespair of describing. 

In some respects it resembled the lumber room of an antiquary, whilstin many particulars it corresponded to the interior of one of thosesecond-hand bookshops which abound in the neighbourhood of CharingCross Road. The shelves with which it was lined literally bulged withbooks, and there were books on the floor, books on the mantelpiece, andbooks, some open and some shut, some handsomely bound, and some havingthe covers torn off, upon every table and nearly every chair in theplace. 

Volume seven of Burton's monumental "Thousand Nights and a Night" layupon a littered desk before which I presumed Mr. Camber had been seatedat the time of my arrival. Some wet vessel, probably a cup of tea orcoffee, had at some time been set down upon the page at which thisvolume was open, for it was marked with a dark brown ring. A volume ofFraser's "Golden Bough" had been used as an ash tray, apparently, sincethe binding was burned in several places where cigarettes had been laidupon it. 

In this interesting, indeed unique apartment, East met West, unabashedby Kipling's dictum. Roman tear-vases and Egyptian tomb-offerings stoodupon the same shelf as empty Bass bottles; and a hideous wooden idolfrom the South Sea Islands leered on eternally, unmoved by the presenceupon his distorted head of a soft felt hat made, I believe, inPhiladelphia. 

Strange implements from early British barrows found themselves in thecompany of _Thugee_ daggers There were carved mammals' tusks andsnake emblems from Yucatan; against a Chinese ivory model of the Templeof Ten Thousand Buddhas rested a Coptic crucifix made from a twig ofthe Holy Rose Tree. Across an ancient Spanish coffer was thrown aPersian rug into which had been woven the monogram of Shah-Jehan and atext from the Koran. It was easy to see that Mr. Colin Camber's studiesmust have imposed a severe strain upon his purse. 

"Sit down, Mr. Knox, sit down, " he said, sweeping a vellum-bound volumeof Eliphas Levi from a chair, and pushing the chair forward. "The visitof a fellow-student is a rare pleasure for me. And you find me, sir, "he seated himself in a curious, carved chair which stood before thedesk, "you find me engaged upon enquiries, the result of which willconstitute chapter forty-two of my present book. Pray glance at thecontents of this little box. "

He placed in my hands a small box of dark wood, evidently of great age. It contained what looked like a number of shrivelled beans. 

Having glanced at it curiously I returned it to him, shaking my headblankly. 

"You are puzzled?" he said, with a kind of boyish triumph, whichlighted up his face, which rejuvenated him and gave me a glimpse ofanother man. "These, sir, " he touched the shrivelled objects with along, delicate forefinger "are seeds of the sacred lotus of AncientEgypt. They were found in the tomb of a priest. "

"And in what way do they bear upon the enquiry to which you referred, Mr. Camber?"

"In this way, " he replied, drawing toward him a piece of newspaper uponwhich rested a mound of coarse shag. "I maintain that the vitalprinciple survives within them. Now, I propose to cultivate theseseeds, Mr. Knox. Do you grasp the significance, of this experiment?"

He knocked out the corn-cob upon the heel of his slipper and began torefill the hot bowl with shag from the newspaper at his elbow. 

"From a physical point of view, yes, " I replied, slowly. "But I shouldnot have supposed such an experiment to come within the scope of yourown particular activities, Mr. Camber. "

"Ah, " he returned, triumphantly, at the same time stuffing tobacco intothe bowl of the corn-cob, "it is for this very reason that chapterforty-two of my book must prove to be the hub of the whole, and thewhole, Mr. Knox, I am egotist enough to believe, shall establish a newfocus for thought, an intellectual Rome bestriding and uniting theSeven Hills of Unbelief. "

He lighted his pipe and stared at me complacently. 

Whilst I had greatly revised my first estimate of the man, my revisionshad been all in his favour. Respecting his genius my first impressionwas confirmed. That he was ahead of his generation, perhaps a newGalileo, I was prepared to believe. He had a pride of bearing which Ithink was partly racial, but which in part, too, was the insignia ofintellectual superiority. He stood above the commonplace, caring littlefor the views of those around and beneath him. From vanity he wasutterly free. His was strangely like the egotism of true genius. 

"Now, sir, " he continued, puffing furiously at his corn-cob, "Iobserved you glancing a moment ago at this volume of the 'GoldenBough. '" He pointed to the scarred book which I have already mentioned. "It is a work of profound scholarship. But having perused its hundredsof pages, what has the student learned? Does he know why the twenty-sixth chapter of the 'Book of the dead' was written upon lapis-lazuli, the twenty-seventh upon green felspar, the twenty-ninth upon cornelian, and the thirtieth upon serpentine? He does not. Having studied PartFour, has he learned the secret of why Osiris was a black god, althoughhe typified the Sun? Has he learned why modern Christianity is losingits hold upon the nations, whilst Buddhism, so called, counts itsdisciples by millions? He has not. This is because the scholar israrely the seer. "

"I quite agree with you, " I said, thinking that I detected the drift ofhis argument. 

"Very well, " said he. "I am an American citizen, Mr. Knox, which istantamount to stating that I belong to the greatest community oftraders which has appeared since the Phoenicians overran the then knownworld. America has not produced the mystic, yet Judæa produced thefounder of Christianity, and Gautama Buddha, born of a royal line, established the creed of human equity. In what way did these magicians, for a miracle-worker is nothing but a magician, differ from ordinarymen? In one respect only: They had learned to control that force whichwe have to-day termed Will. "

As he spoke those words Colin Camber directed upon me a glance from hisluminous eyes which frankly thrilled me. The bemused figure of theLavender Arms was forgotten. I perceived before me a man of power, aman of extraordinary knowledge and intellectual daring. His voice, which was very beautiful, together with his glance, held me enthralled. 

"What we call Will, " he continued, "is what the Ancient Egyptianscalled _Khu_. It is not mental: it is a property of the soul. Atthis point, Mr. Knox, I depart from the laws generally accepted by mycontemporaries. I shall presently propose to you that the eye of theDivine Architect literally watches every creature upon the earth. "

"Literally?"

"Literally, Mr. Knox. We need no images, no idols, no paintings. Allpower, all light comes from one source. That source is the sun! The suncontrols Will, and the Will is the soul. If there were a cavern in theearth so deep that the sun could never reach it, and if it werepossible for a child to be born in that cavern, do you know what thatchild would be?"

"Almost certainly blind, " I replied; "beyond which my imagination failsme. "

"Then I will inform you, Mr. Knox. It would be a demon. "

"What!" I cried, and was momentarily touched with the fear that thiswas a brilliant madman. 

"Listen, " he said, and pointed with the stem of his pipe. "Why, in allancient creeds, is Hades depicted as below? For the simple reason thatcould such a spot exist and be inhabited, it must be _sunless_, when it could only be inhabited by devils; and what are devils butcreatures without souls?"

"You mean that a child born beyond reach of the sun's influence wouldhave no soul?"

"Such is my meaning, Mr. Knox. Do you begin to see the importance of myexperiment with the lotus seeds?"

I shook my head slowly. Whereupon, laying his corn-cob upon the desk, Colin Camber burst into a fit of boyish laughter, which seemed torejuvenate him again, which wiped out the image of the maguscompletely, and only left before me a very human student of strangesubjects, and withal a fascinating companion. 

"I fear, sir, " he said, presently, "that my steps have led me fartherinto the wilderness than it has been your fate to penetrate. The wholesecret of the universe is contained in the words Day and Night, Darkness and Light. I have studied both the light and the darkness, deliberately and without fear. A new age is about to dawn, sir, and anew age requires new beliefs, new truths. Were you ever in the countryof the Hill Dyaks?"

This abrupt question rather startled me, but:

"You refer to the Borneo hill-country?"

"Precisely. "

"No, I was never there. "

"Then this little magical implement will be new to you, " said he. 

Standing up, he crossed to a cabinet littered untidily with all sortsof strange-looking objects, carved bones, queer little inlaid boxes, images, untidy manuscripts, and what-not. 

He took up what looked like a very ungainly tobacco-pipe, made of somerich brown wood, and, handing it to me:

"Examine this, Mr. Knox, " he said, the boyish smile of triumphreturning again to his face. 

I did as he requested and made no discovery of note. The thing clearlywas not intended for a pipe. The stem was soiled and, moreover, therewas carving inside the bowl. So that presently I returned it to him, shaking my head. 

"Unless one should be informed of the properties of this littleinstrument, " he declared, "discovery by experiment is improbable. Now, note. "

He struck the hollow of the bowl upon the palm of his hand, and itdelivered a high, bell-like note which lingered curiously. Then:

"Note again. "

He made a short striking motion with the thing, similar to that whichone would employ who had designed to jerk something out of the bowl. And at the very spot on the floor where any object contained in thebowl would have fallen, came a reprise of the bell note! Clearly, fromalmost at my feet, it sounded, a high, metallic ring. 

He struck upward, and the bell-note sounded on the ceiling; to theright, and it came from the window; in my direction, and the tiny bellseemed to ring beside my ear! I will honestly admit that I wasstartled, but:

"Dyak magic, " said Colin Camber; "one of nature's secrets not yetdiscovered by conventional Western science. It was known to theEgyptian priesthood, of course; hence the Vocal Memnon. It was known toMadame Blavatsky, who employed an 'astral bell'; and it is known tome. "

He returned the little instrument to its place upon the cabinet. 

"I wonder if the fact will strike you as significant, " said he, "thatthe note which you have just heard can only be produced between sunriseand sunset?"

Without giving me time to reply:

"The most notable survival of black magic--that is, the scientificemployment of darkness against light--is to be met with in Haiti andother islands of the West Indies. "

"You are referring to Voodooism?" I said, slowly. 

He nodded, replacing his pipe between his teeth. 

"A subject, Mr. Knox, which I investigated exhaustively some yearsago. "

I was watching him closely as he spoke, and a shadow, a strange shadow, crept over his face, a look almost of exaltation--of mingled sorrow andgladness which I find myself quite unable to describe. 

"In the West Indies, Mr. Knox, " he continued, in a strangely alteredvoice, "I lost all and found all. Have you ever realized, sir, thatsorrow is the price we must pay for joy?"

I did not understand his question, and was still wondering about itwhen I heard a gentle knock, the door opened, and a woman came in. 

CHAPTER XIV

YSOLA CAMBER

I find it difficult, now, to recapture my first impression of thatmeeting. About the woman, hesitating before me, there was somethingunexpected, something wholly unfamiliar. She belonged to a type withwhich I was not acquainted. Nor was it wonderful that she should strikeme in this fashion, since my wanderings, although fairly extensive, hadnever included the West Indies, nor had I been to Spain; and this girl--I could have sworn that she was under twenty--was one of those rarebeauties, a golden Spaniard. 

That she was not purely Spanish I learned later. 

She was small, and girlishly slight, with slender ankles and exquisitelittle feet; indeed I think she had the tiniest feet of any woman I hadever met. She wore a sort of white pinafore over her dress, and herarms, which were bare because of the short sleeves of her frock, wereof a child-like roundness, whilst her creamy skin was touched with afaint tinge of bronze, as though, I remember thinking, it had absorbedand retained something of the Southern sunshine. She had the swayingcarriage which usually belongs to a tall woman, and her head and neckwere Grecian in poise. 

Her hair, which was of a curious dull gold colour, presented a mass ofthick, tight curls, and her beauty was of that unusual character whichmakes a Cleopatra a subject of deathless debate. What I mean to say isthis: whilst no man could have denied, for instance, that Val Beverleywas a charmingly pretty woman, nine critics out of ten must have failedto classify this golden Spaniard correctly or justly. Her complexionwas peach-like in the Oriental sense, that strange hint of goldunderlying the delicate skin, and her dark blue eyes were shaded byreally wonderful silken lashes. 

Emotion had the effect of enlarging the pupils, a phenomenon rarely metwith, so that now as she entered the room and found a stranger presentthey seemed to be rather black than blue. 

Her embarrassment was acute, and I think she would have retired withoutspeaking, but:

"Ysola, " said Colin Camber, regarding her with a look curiouslycompounded of sorrow and pride, "allow me to present Mr. Malcolm Knox, who has honoured us with a visit. "

He turned to me. 

"Mr. Knox, " he said, "it gives me great pleasure that you should meetmy wife. "

Perhaps I had expected this, indeed, subconsciously, I think I had. Nevertheless, at the words "my wife" I felt that I started. The analogywith Edgar Allan Poe was complete. 

As Mrs. Camber extended her hand with a sort of appealing timidity, itappeared to me that she felt herself to be intruding. The expression inher beautiful eyes when she glanced at her husband could only bedescribed as one of adoration; and whilst it was impossible to doubthis love for her, I wondered if his colossal egotism were capable ofstooping to affection. I wondered if he knew how to tend and protectthis delicate Southern girl wife of his. 

Remembering the episode of the Lavender Arms, I felt justified indoubting her happiness, and in this I saw an explanation of the mingledsorrow and pride with which Colin Camber regarded her. It might betokenrecognition of his own shortcomings as a husband. 

"How nice of you to come and see us. Mr. Knox, " she said. 

She spoke in a faintly husky manner which was curiously attractive, although lacking the deep, vibrant tones of Madame de Stämer'smemorable voice. Her English was imperfect, but her accent good. 

"Your husband has been carrying me to enchanted lands, Mrs. Camber, " Ireplied. "I have never known a morning to pass so quickly. "

"Oh, " she replied, and laughed with a childish glee which I was glad towitness. "Did he tell you all about the book which is going to make theworld good? Did he tell you it will make us rich as well?"

"Rich?" said Camber, frowning slightly. "Nature's riches are health andlove. If we hold these the rest will come. Now that you have joined us, Ysola, I shall beg Mr. Knox, in honour of this occasion, to drink aglass of wine and break a biscuit as a pledge of future meetings. "

I watched him as he spoke, a lean, unkempt figure invested with acurious dignity, and I found it almost impossible to believe that thiswas the same man who had sat in the bar of the Lavender Arms, sippingwhisky and water. The resemblance to the portrait in Harley's officebecame more marked than ever. There was an air of high breeding aboutthe delicate features which, curiously enough, was accentuated by theunshaven chin. I recognized that refusal would be regarded as a rebuff, and therefore:

"You are very kind, " I said. 

Colin Camber inclined his head gravely and courteously. 

"We are very glad to have you with us, Mr. Knox, " he replied. 

He clapped his hands, and, silent as a shadow, Ah Tsong appeared. Inoted that although it was Camber who had summoned him, it was to Mrs. Camber that the Chinaman turned for orders. I had thought his yellowface incapable of expression, but as his oblique eyes turned in thedirection of the girl I read in them a sort of dumb worship, such asone sees in the eyes of a dog. 

She spoke to him rapidly in Chinese. 

"Hoi, hoi, " he muttered, "hoi, hoi, " nodded his head, and went out. 

I saw that Colin Camber had detected my interest, for:

"Ah Tsong is really my wife's servant, " he explained. 

"Oh, " she said in a low voice, and looked at me earnestly, "Ah Tsongnursed me when I was a little baby so high. " She held her hand aboutfour feet from the floor and laughed gleefully. "Can you imagine what afunny little thing I was?"

"You must have been a wonder-child, Mrs. Camber, " I replied withsincerity; "and Ah Tsong has remained with you ever since?"

"Ever since, " she echoed, shaking her head in a vaguely pathetic way. "He will never leave me, do you think, Colin?"

"Never, " replied her husband; "you are all he loves in the world. Acase, Mr. Knox, " he turned to me, "of deathless fidelity rarely metwith nowadays and only possible, perhaps, in its true form in anOriental. "

Mrs. Camber having seated herself upon one of the few chairs which wasnot piled with books, her husband had resumed his place by the writingdesk, and I sought in vain to interpret the glances which passedbetween them. 

The fact that these two were lovers none could have mistaken. But hereagain, as at Cray's Folly, I detected a shadow. I felt that somethinghad struck at the very root of their happiness, in fact, I wondered ifthey had been parted, and were but newly reunited for there was a sortof constraint between them, the more marked on the woman's side than onthe man's. I wondered how long they had been married, but felt that itwould have been indiscreet to ask. 

Even as the idea occurred to me, however, an opportunity arose oflearning what I wished to know. I heard a bell ring, and:

"There is someone at the door, Colin, " said Mrs. Camber. 

"I will go, " he replied. "Ah Tsong has enough to do. "

Without another word he stood up and walked out of the room. 

"You see, " said Mrs. Camber, smiling in her naive way, "we only haveone servant, except Ah Tsong, her name is Mrs. Powis. She is visitingher daughter who is married. We made the poor old lady take a holiday. "

"It is difficult to imagine you burdened with householdresponsibilities, Mrs. Camber, " I replied. "Please forgive me but Icannot help wondering how long you have been married?"

"For nearly four years. "

"Really?" I exclaimed. "You must have been married very young?"

"I was twenty. Do I look so young?"

I gazed at her in amazement. 

"You astonish me, " I declared, which was quite true and no merecompliment. "I had guessed your age to be eighteen. "

"Oh, " she laughed, and resting her hands upon the settee leaned forwardwith sparkling eyes, "how funny. Sometimes I wish I looked older. It isdreadful in this place, although we have been so happy here. At all theshops they look at me so funny, so I always send Mrs. Powis now. "

"You are really quite wonderful, " I said. "You are Spanish, are younot, Mrs. Camber?"

She slightly shook her head, and I saw the pupils begin to dilate. 

"Not really Spanish, " she replied, haltingly. "I was born in Cuba. "

"In Cuba?"

She nodded. 

"Then it was in Cuba that you met Mr. Camber?"

She nodded again, watching me intently. 

"It is strange that a Virginian should settle in Surrey. "

"Yes?" she murmured, "you think so? But really it is not strange atall. Colin's people are so proud, so proud. Do you know what they arelike, those Virginians? Oh! I hate them. "

"You hate them?"

"No, I cannot hate them, for he is one. But he will never go back. "

"Why should he never go back, Mrs. Camber?"

"Because of me. "

"You mean that you do not wish to settle in America?"

"I could not--not where he comes from. They would not have me. "

Her eyes grew misty, and she quickly lowered her lashes. 

"Would not have you?" I exclaimed. "I don't understand. "

"No?" she said, and smiled up at me very gravely. "It is simple. I am aCuban, one, as they say, of an inferior race--and of mixed blood. "

She shook her golden head as if to dismiss the subject, and stood up, as Camber entered, followed by Ah Tsong bearing a tray of refreshments. 

Of the ensuing conversation I remember nothing. My mind was focussedupon the one vital fact that Mrs. Camber was a Cuban Creole. Dimly Ifelt that here was the missing link for which Paul Harley was groping. For it was in Cuba that Colin Camber had met his wife, it was from Cubathat the menace of Bat Wing came. 

What could it mean? Surely it was more than a coincidence that thesetwo families, both associated with the West Indies, should residewithin sight of one another in the Surrey Hills. Yet, if it were theresult of design, the design must be on the part of Colonel Menendez, since the Cambers had occupied the Guest House before he had leasedCray's Folly. 

I know not if I betrayed my absentmindedness during the time that I wasstruggling vainly with these maddening problems, but presently, Mrs. Camber having departed about her household duties, I found myselfwalking down the garden with her husband. 

"This is the summer house of which I was speaking, Mr. Knox, " he said, and I regret to state that I retained no impression of his havingpreviously mentioned the subject. "During the time that Sir JamesAppleton resided at Cray's Folly, I worked here regularly in the summermonths. It was Sir James, of course, who laid out the greater part ofthe gardens and who rescued the property from the state of decay intowhich it had fallen. "

I aroused myself from the profitless reverie in which I had becomelost. We were standing before a sort of arbour which marked the end ofthe grounds of the Guest House. It overhung the edge of a miniatureravine, in which, over a pebbly course, a little stream pursued its waydown the valley to feed the lake in the grounds of Cray's Folly. 

From this point of vantage I could see the greater part of ColonelMenendez's residence. I had an unobstructed view of the tower and ofthe Tudor garden. 

"I abandoned my work-shop, " pursued Colin Camber, "when the--er--thenew tenant took up his residence. I work now in the room in which youfound me this morning. "

He sighed, and turning abruptly, led the way back to the house, holdinghimself very erect, and presenting a queer figure in his threadbaredressing gown. 

It was now a perfect summer's day, and I commented upon the beauty ofthe old garden, which in places was bordered by a crumbling wall. 

"Yes, a quaint old spot, " said Camber. "I thought at one time, becauseof the name of the house, that it might have been part of a monasteryor convent. This was not the case, however. It derives its name from acertain Sir Jaspar Guest, who flourished, I believe, under King Charlesof merry memory. "

"Nevertheless, " I added, "the Guest House is a charming survival ofmore spacious days. "

"True, " returned Colin Camber, gravely. "Here it is possible to leadone's own life, away from the noisy world, " he sighed again wearily. "Yes, I shall regret leaving the Guest House. "

"What! You are leaving?"

"I am leaving as soon as I can find another residence, suited both tomy requirements and to my slender purse. But these domestic affairs canbe of no possible interest to you. I take it, Mr. Knox, that you willgrant my wife and myself the pleasure of your company at lunch?"

"Many thanks, " I replied, "but really I must return to Cray's Folly. "

As I spoke the words I had moved a little ahead at a point where thepath was overgrown by a rose bush, for the garden was somewhatneglected. 

"You will quite understand, " I said, and turned. 

Never can I forget the spectacle which I beheld. 

Colin Camber's peculiarly pale complexion had assumed a truly ghastlypallor, and he stood with tightly clenched hands, glaring at me almostinsanely. 

"Mr. Camber, " I cried, with concern, "are you unwell?"

He moistened his dry lips, and:

"You are returning--to Cray's Folly?" he said, speaking, it seemed, with difficulty. 

"I am, sir. I am staying with Colonel Menendez. "

"Ah!"

He clutched the collar of his pyjama jacket and wrenched so stronglythat the button was torn off. His passion was incredible, insane. Thepower of speech had almost left him. 

"You are a guest of--of Devil Menendez, " he whispered, and the speakingof the name seemed almost to choke him. "Of--Devil Menendez. You--you--are a spy. You have stolen my hospitality--you have obtained access tomy house under false pretences. God! if I had known!"

"Mr. Camber, " I said, sternly, and realized that I, too, had clenchedmy fists, for the man's language was grossly insulting, "you forgetyourself. "

"Perhaps I do, " he muttered, thickly; "and therefore"--he raised aquivering forefinger--"go! If you have any spark of compassion in yourbreast, go! Leave my house. "

Nostrils dilated, he stood with that quivering finger outstretched, andnow having become as speechless as he, I turned and walked rapidly upto the house. 

"Ah Tsong! Ah Tsong!" came a cry from behind me in tones which I canonly describe as hysterical--"Mr. Knox's hat and stick. Quickly. "

As I walked in past the study door the Chinaman came to meet me, holding my hat and cane. I took them from him without a word, and, thedoor being held open by Ah Tsong, walked out on to the road. 

My heart was beating rapidly. I did not know what to think nor what todo. This ignominious dismissal afforded an experience new to me. I washumiliated, mortified, but above all, wildly angry. 

How far I had gone on my homeward journey I cannot say, when the soundof quickly pattering footsteps intruded upon my wild reverie. Istopped, turned, and there was Ah Tsong almost at my heels. 

"Blinga chit flom lilly missee, " he said, and held the note toward me. 

I hesitated, glaring at him in a way that must have been veryunpleasant; but recovering myself I tore open the envelope, and readthe following note, written in pencil and very shakily:

MR. KNOX. Please forgive him. If you knew what we have suffered from Senor DonJuan Menendez, I know you would forgive him. Please, for my sake. YSOLA CAMBER. 

The Chinaman was watching me, that strangely pathetic expression in hiseyes, and:

"Tell your mistress that I quite understand and will write to her, " Isaid. 

"Hoi, hoi. "

Ah Tsong turned, and ran swiftly off, as I pursued my way back toCray's Folly in a mood which I shall not attempt to describe. 

CHAPTER XV

UNREST

I sat in Paul Harley's room. Luncheon was over, and although, as on theprevious day, it had been a perfect repast, perfectly served, the senseof tension which I had experienced throughout the meal had made mehorribly ill at ease. 

That shadow of which I have spoken elsewhere seemed to have becomealmost palpable. In vain I had ascribed it to a morbid imagination:persistently it lingered. 

Madame de Stämer's gaiety rang more false than ever. She twirled therings upon her slender fingers and shot little enquiring glances allaround the table. This spirit of unrest, from wherever it arose, hadcommunicated itself to everybody. Madame's several bon mots one and allwere failures. She delivered them without conviction like an amateurrepeating lines learned by heart. The Colonel was unusually silent, eating little but drinking much. There was something unreal, almostghastly, about the whole affair; and when at last Madame de Stämerretired, bearing Val Beverley with her, I felt certain that the Colonelwould make some communication to us. If ever knowledge of portentousevil were written upon a man's face it was written upon his, as he satthere at the head of the table, staring straightly before him. However:

"Gentlemen, " he said, "if your enquiries here have led to no result of, shall I say, a tangible character, at least I feel sure that you musthave realized one thing. "

Harley stared at him sternly. 

"I have realized, Colonel Menendez, " he replied, "that something ispending. "

"Ah!" murmured the Colonel, and he clutched the edge of the table withhis strong brown hands. 

"But, " continued my friend, "I have realized something more. You haveasked for my aid, and I am here. Now you have deliberately tied myhands. "

"What do you mean, sir?" asked the other, softly. 

"I will speak plainly. I mean that you know more about the nature ofthis danger than you have ever communicated to me. Allow me to proceed, if you please, Colonel Menendez. For your delightful hospitality Ithank you. As your guest I could be happy, but as a professionalinvestigator whose services have been called upon under most unusualcircumstances, I cannot be happy and I do not thank you. "

Their glances met. Both were angry, wilful, and self-confident. Following a few moments of silence:

"Perhaps, Mr. Harley, " said the Colonel, "you have something further tosay?"

"I have this to say, " was the answer: "I esteem your friendship, but Ifear I must return to town without delay. "

The Colonel's jaws were clenched so tightly that I could see themuscles protruding. He was fighting an inward battle; then:

"What!" he said, "you would desert me?"

"I never deserted any man who sought my aid. "

"I have sought your aid. "

"Then accept it!" cried Harley. "This, or allow me to retire from thecase. You ask me to find an enemy who threatens you, and you withholdevery clue which could aid me in my search. "

"What clue have I withheld?"

Paul Harley stood up. 

"It is useless to discuss the matter further, Colonel Menendez, " hesaid, coldly. 

The Colonel rose also, and:

"Mr. Harley, " he replied, and his high voice was ill-controlled, "if Igive you my word of honour that I dare not tell you more, and if, having done so, I beg of you to remain at least another night, can yourefuse me?"

Harley stood at the end of the table watching him. 

"Colonel Menendez, " he said, "this would appear to be a game in whichmy handicap rests on the fact that I do not know against whom I ampitted. Very well. You leave me no alternative but to reply that I willstay. "

"I thank you, Mr. Harley. As I fear I am far from well, dare I hope tobe excused if I retire to my room for an hour's rest?"

Harley and I bowed, and the Colonel, returning our salutations, walkedslowly out, his bearing one of grace and dignity. So that memorableluncheon terminated, and now we found ourselves alone and faced with aproblem which, from whatever point one viewed it, offered no singleopening whereby one might hope to penetrate to the truth. 

Paul Harley was pacing up and down the room in a state of such nervousirritability as I never remembered to have witnessed in him before. 

I had just finished an account of my visit to the Guest House and ofthe indignity which had been put upon me, and:

"Conundrums! conundrums!" my friend exclaimed. "This quest of Bat Wingis like the quest of heaven, Knox. A hundred open doors invite us, eachone promising to lead to the light, and if we enter where do theylead?--to mystification. For instance, Colonel Menendez has broadlyhinted that he looks upon Colin Camber as an enemy. Judging from yourreception at the Guest House to-day, such an enmity, and a deadlyenmity, actually exists. But whereas Camber has resided here for threeyears, the Colonel is a newcomer. We are, therefore, offered thespectacle of a trembling victim seeking the sacrifice. Bah! it ispreposterous. "

"If you had seen Colin Camber's face to-day, you might not have thoughtit so preposterous. "

"But I should, Knox! I should! It is impossible to suppose that ColonelMenendez was unaware when he leased Cray's Folly that Camber occupiedthe Guest House. "

"And Mrs. Camber is a Cuban, " I murmured. 

"Don't, Knox!" my friend implored. "This case is driving me mad. I havea conviction that it is going to prove my Waterloo. "

"My dear fellow, " I said, "this mood is new to you. "

"Why don't you advise me to remember Auguste Dupin?" asked Harley, bitterly. "That great man, preserving his philosophical calm, doubtlessby this time would have pieced together these disjointed clues, andhave produced an elegant pattern ready to be framed and exhibited tothe admiring public. "

He dropped down upon the bed, and taking his briar from his pocket, began to load it in a manner which was almost vicious. I stood watchinghim and offered no remark, until, having lighted the pipe, he began tosmoke. I knew that these "Indian moods" were of short duration, and, sure enough, presently:

"God bless us all, Knox, " he said, breaking into an amused smile, "howwe bristle when someone tries to prove that we are not infallible! Howhuman we are, Knox, but how fortunate that we can laugh at ourselves. "

I sighed with relief, for Harley at these times imposed a severe straineven upon my easy-going disposition. 

"Let us go down to the billiard room, " he continued. "I will play you ahundred up. I have arrived at a point where my ideas persistently workin circles. The best cure is golf; failing golf, billiards. "

The billiard room was immediately beneath us, adjoining the lastapartment in the east wing, and there we made our way. Harley playedkeenly, deliberately, concentrating upon the game. I was lesssuccessful, for I found myself alternately glancing toward the door andthe open window, in the hope that Val Beverley would join us. I wasdisappointed, however. We saw no more of the ladies until tea-time, andif a spirit of constraint had prevailed throughout luncheon, averitable demon of unrest presided upon the terrace during tea. 

Madame de Stämer made apologies on behalf of the Colonel. He wasprolonging his siesta, but he hoped to join us at dinner. 

"Is the Colonel's heart affected?" Harley asked. 

Madame de Stämer shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, blankly. 

"It is mysterious, the state of his health, " she replied. "An oldtrouble, which began years and years ago in Cuba. "

Harley nodded sympathetically, but I could see that he was notsatisfied. Yet, although he might doubt her explanation, he had noted, and so had I, that Madame de Stämer's concern was very real. Herslender hands were strangely unsteady; indeed her condition bordered onone of distraction. 

Harley concealed his thoughts, whatever they may have been, beneaththat mask of reserve which I knew so well, whilst I endeavoured in vainto draw Val Beverley into conversation with me. 

I gathered that Madame de Stämer had been to visit the invalid, andthat she was all anxiety to return was a fact she was wholly unable toconceal. There was a tired look in her still eyes, as though she hadundertaken a task beyond her powers to perform, and, so unnatural aquartette were we, that when presently she withdrew I was glad, although she took Val Beverley with her. 

Paul Harley resumed his seat, staring at me with unseeing eyes. A soundreached us through the drawing room which told us that Madame deStämer's chair was being taken upstairs, a task always performed whenMadame desired to visit the upper floors by Manoel and Pedro'sdaughter, Nita, who acted as Madame's maid. These sounds died away, andI thought how silent everything had become. Even the birds were still, and presently, my eye being attracted to a black speck in the skyabove, I learned why the feathered choir was mute. A hawk was hoveringloftily overhead. 

Noting my upward glance, Paul Harley also raised his eyes. 

"Ah, " he murmured, "a hawk. All the birds are cowering in their nests. Nature is a cruel mistress, Knox. "

CHAPTER XVI

RED EVE

Over the remainder of that afternoon I will pass in silence. Indeed, looking backward now, I cannot recollect that it afforded one incidentworthy of record. But because great things overshadow small, so it maybe that whereas my recollections of quite trivial episodes are sharpenough up to a point, my memories from this point onward to thehorrible and tragic happening which I have set myself to relate arehazy and indistinct. I was troubled by the continued absence of ValBeverley. I thought that she was avoiding me by design, and in Harley'sgloomy reticence I could find no shadow of comfort. 

We wandered aimlessly about the grounds, Harley staring up in a vaguefashion at the windows of Cray's Folly; and presently, when I stoppedto inspect a very perfect rose bush, he left me without a word, and Ifound myself alone. 

Later, as I sauntered toward the Tudor garden, where I had hoped toencounter Miss Beverley, I heard the clicking of billiard balls; andthere was Harley at the table, practising fancy shots. 

He glanced up at me as I paused by the open window, stopped to relighthis pipe, and then bent over the table again. 

"Leave me alone, Knox, " he muttered; "I am not fit for human society. "

Understanding his moods as well as I did, I merely laughed andwithdrew. 

I strolled around into the library and inspected scores of bookswithout forming any definite impression of the contents of any of them. Manoel came in whilst I was there and I was strongly tempted to send amessage to Miss Beverley, but common sense overcame the inclination. 

When at last my watch told me that the hour for dressing was arrived, Iheaved a sigh of relief. I cannot say that I was bored, my ill-tempersprang from a deeper source than this. The mysterious disappearance ofthe inmates of Cray's Folly, and a sort of brooding stillness which layover the great house, had utterly oppressed me. 

As I passed along the terrace I paused to admire the spectacle affordedby the setting sun. The horizon was on fire from north to south and thecountryside was stained with that mystic radiance which is sometimescalled the Blood of Apollo. Turning, I saw the disk of the moon coldlyrising in the heavens. I thought of the silent birds and the hoveringhawk, and I began my preparations for dinner mechanically, dressing asan automaton might dress. 

Paul Harley's personality was never more marked than in his evil moods. His power to fascinate was only equalled by his power to repel. Thus, although there was a light in his room and I could hear Lim movingabout, I did not join him when I had finished dressing, but lighting acigarette walked downstairs. 

The beauty of the night called to me, although as I stepped out uponthe terrace I realized with a sort of shock that the gathering duskheld a menace, so that I found myself questioning the shadows anddoubting the rustle of every leaf. Something invisible, intangible yetpotent, brooded over Cray's Folly. I began to think more kindly of thedisappearance of Val Beverley during the afternoon. Doubtless she, too, had been touched by this spirit of unrest and in solitude had sought todispel it. 

So thinking. I walked on in the direction of the Tudor garden. Theplace was bathed in a sort of purple half-light, lending it a fairy airof unreality, as though banished sun and rising moon yet disputed formastery over earth. This idea set me thinking of Colin Camber, ofOsiris, whom he had described as a black god, and of Isis, whose silverdisk now held undisputed sovereignty of the evening sky. 

Resentment of the treatment which I had received at the Guest Housestill burned hotly within me, but the mystery of it all had taken thekeen edge off my wrath, and I think a sort of melancholy was thekeynote of my reflections as, descending the steps to the sunkengarden, I saw Val Beverley, in a delicate blue gown, coming toward me. She was the spirit of my dreams, and the embodiment of my mood. Whenshe lowered her eyes at my approach, I knew by virtue of a sort ofinspiration that she had been avoiding me. 

"Miss Beverley, " I said, "I have been looking for you all theafternoon. "

"Have you? I have been in my room writing letters. "

I paced slowly along beside her. 

"I wish you would be very frank with me, " I said. 

She glanced up swiftly, and as swiftly lowered her lashes again. 

"Do you think I am not frank?"

"I do think so. I understand why. "

"Do you really understand?"

"I think I do. Your woman's intuition has told you that there issomething wrong. "

"In what way?"

"You are afraid of your thoughts. You can see that Madame de Stämer andColonel Menendez are deliberately concealing something from PaulHarley, and you don't know where your duty lies. Am I right?"

She met my glance for a moment in a startled way, then: "Yes, " shesaid, softly; "you are quite right. How have you guessed?"

"I have tried very hard to understand you, " I replied, "and so perhapsup to a point I have succeeded. "

"Oh, Mr. Knox. " She suddenly laid her hand upon my arm. "I am oppressedwith such a dreadful foreboding, yet I don't know how to explain it toyou. "

"I understand. I, too, have felt it. "

"You have?" She paused, and looked at me eagerly. "Then it is not justmorbid imagination on my part. If only I knew what to do, what tobelieve. Really, I am bewildered. I have just left Madame de Stämer--"

"Yes?" I said, for she had paused in evident doubt. 

"Well, she has utterly broken down. "

"Broken down?"

"She came to my room and sobbed hysterically for nearly an hour thisafternoon. "

"But what was the cause of her grief?"

"I simply cannot understand. "

"Is it possible that Colonel Menendez is dangerously ill?"

"It may be so, Mr. Knox, but in that event why have they not sent for aphysician?"

"True, " I murmured; "and no one has been sent for?"

"No one. "

"Have you seen Colonel Menendez?"

"Not since lunch-time. "

"Have you ever known him to suffer in this way before?"

"Never. It is utterly unaccountable. Certainly during the last fewmonths he has given up riding practically altogether, and in other wayshas changed his former habits, but I have never known him to exhibittraces of any real illness. "

"Has any medical man attended him?"

"Not that I know of. Oh, there is something uncanny about it all. Whatever should I do if you were not here?"

She had spoken on impulse, and seeing her swift embarrassment:

"Miss Beverley, " I said, "I am delighted to know that my company cheersyou. "

Truth to tell my heart was beating rapidly, and, so selfish is thenature of man, I was more glad to learn that my company was acceptableto Val Beverley than I should have been to have had the riddle ofCray's Folly laid bare before me. 

Those sweetly indiscreet words, however, had raised a momentary barrierbetween us, and we walked on silently to the house, and entered thebrightly lighted hall. 

The silver peal of a Chinese tubular gong rang out just when we reachedthe veranda, and as Val Beverley and I walked in from the garden, Madame de Stämer came wheeling through the doorway, closely followed byPaul Harley. In her the art of the toilette amounted almost to genius, and she had so successfully concealed all traces of her recent griefthat I wondered if this could have been real. 

"My dear Mr. Knox, " she cried, "I seem to be fated always to apologizefor other people. The Colonel is truly desolate, but he cannot join usfor dinner. I have already explained to Mr. Harley. "

Harley inclined his head sympathetically, and assisted to arrangeMadame in her place. 

"The Colonel requests us to smoke a cigar with him after dinner, Knox, "he said, glancing across to me. "It would seem that troubles never comesingly. "

"Ah, " Madame shrugged her shoulders, which her low gown left daringlybare, "they come in flocks, or not at all. But I suppose we should feellonely in the world without a few little sorrows, eh, Mr. Harley?"

I loved her unquenchable spirit, and I have wondered often enough whatI should have thought of her if I had known the truth. France has bredsome wonderful women, both good and bad, but none I think morewonderful than Marie de Stämer. 

If such a thing were possible, we dined more extravagantly than on theprevious night. Madame's wit was at its keenest; she was trulybrilliant. Pedro, from the big bouffet at the end of the room, supervised this feast of Lucullus, and except for odd moments ofsilence in which Madame seemed to be listening for some distant sound, there was nothing, I think, which could have told a casual observerthat a black cloud rested upon the house. 

Once, interrupting a tête-à-tête between Val Beverley and Paul Harley:

"Do not encourage her, Mr. Harley, " said Madame, "she is a desperateflirt. "

"Oh, Madame, " cried Val Beverley and blushed deeply. 

"You know you are, my dear, and you are very wise. Flirt all your life, but never fall in love. It is fatal, don't you think so, Mr. Knox?"--turning to me in her rapid manner. 

I looked into her still eyes, which concealed so much. 

"Say, rather, that it is Fate, " I murmured. 

"Yes, that is more pretty, but not so true. If I could live my lifeagain, M. Knox, " she said, for she sometimes used the French andsometimes the English mode of address, "I should build a stone wallaround my heart. It could peep over, but no one could ever reach it. "

Oddly enough, then, as it seems to me now, the spirit of unrest seemedalmost to depart for awhile, and in the company of the vivaciousFrenchwoman time passed very quickly up to the moment when Harley and Iwalked slowly upstairs to join the Colonel. 

During the latter part of dinner an idea had presented itself to mewhich I was anxious to mention to Harley, and:

"Harley, " I said, "an explanation of the Colonel's absence has occurredto me. "

"Really!" he replied; "possibly the same one that has occurred to me. "

"What is that?"

Paul Harley paused on the stairs, turning to me. 

"You are thinking that he has taken cover from the danger which hebelieves particularly to threaten him to-night?"

"Exactly. "

"You may be right, " he murmured, proceeding upstairs. 

He led the way to a little smoke-room which hitherto I had nevervisited, and in response to his knock:

"Come in, " cried the high voice of Colonel Menendez. 

We entered to find ourselves in a small and very cosy room. There was ahandsome oak bureau against one wall, which was littered with papers ofvarious kinds, and there was also a large bookcase occupied almostexclusively by French novels. It occurred to me that the Colonel spenta greater part of his time in this little snuggery than in the moreformal study below. At the moment of our arrival he was stretched upona settee near which stood a little table; and on this table I observedthe remains of what appeared to me to have been a fairly substantialrepast. For some reason which I did not pause to analyze at the momentI noted with disfavour the presence of a bowl of roses upon the silvertray. 

Colonel Menendez was smoking a cigarette, and Manoel was in the act ofremoving the tray. 

"Gentlemen, " said the Colonel, "I have no words in which to express mysorrow. Manoel, pull up those armchairs. Help yourself to port, Mr. Harley, and fill Mr. Knox's glass. I can recommend the cigars in thelong box. "

As we seated ourselves:

"I am extremely sorry to find you indisposed, sir, " said Harley. 

He was watching the dark face keenly, and probably thinking, as I wasthinking, that it exhibited no trace of illness. 

Colonel Menendez waved his cigarette gracefully, settling himself amidthe cushions. 

"An old trouble, Mr. Harley, " he replied, lightly; "a legacy fromancestors who drank too deep of the wine of life. "

"You are surely taking medical advice?"

Colonel Menendez shrugged slightly. 

"There is no doctor in England who would understand the case, " hereplied. "Besides, there is nothing for it but rest and avoidance ofexcitement. "

"In that event, Colonel, " said Harley, "we will not disturb you forlong. Indeed, I should not have consented to disturb you at all, if Ihad not thought that you might have some request to make upon thisimportant night. "

"Ah!" Colonel Menendez shot a swift glance in his direction. "You haveremembered about to-night?"

"Naturally. "

"Your interest comforts me very greatly, gentlemen, and I am only sorrythat my uncertain health has made me so poor a host. Nothing hasoccurred since your arrival to help you, I am aware. Not that I amanxious for any new activity on the part of my enemies. But almostanything which should end this deathly suspense would be welcome. "

He spoke the final words with a peculiar intonation. I saw Harleywatching him closely. 

"However, " he continued, "everything is in the hands of Fate, and ifyour visit should prove futile, I can only apologize for havinginterrupted your original plans. Respecting to-night"--he shrugged--"what can I say?"

"Nothing has occurred, " asked Harley, slowly, "nothing fresh, I mean, to indicate that the danger which you apprehend may really culminateto-night?"

"Nothing fresh, Mr. Harley, unless you yourself have observedanything. "

"Ah, " murmured Paul Harley, "let us hope that the threat will never befulfilled. "

Colonel Menendez inclined his head gravely. 

"Let us hope so, " he said. 

On the whole, he was curiously subdued. He was most solicitous for ourcomfort and his exquisite courtesy had never been more marked. I oftenthink of him now--his big but graceful figure reclining upon thesettee, whilst he skilfully rolled his eternal cigarettes and chattedin that peculiar, light voice. Before the memory of Colonel Don JuanSarmiento Menendez I sometimes stand appalled. If his Maker had butendowed him with other qualities of mind and heart equal to hismagnificent courage, then truly he had been a great man. 

CHAPTER XVII

NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON

I stood at Harley's open window--looking down in the Tudor garden. Themoon, like a silver mirror, hung in a cloudless sky. Over an hour hadelapsed since I had heard Pedro making his nightly rounds. Nothingwhatever of an unusual nature had occurred, and although Harley and Ihad listened for any sound of nocturnal footsteps, our vigilance hadpassed unrewarded. Harley, unrolling the Chinese ladder, had set outupon a secret tour of the grounds, warning me that it must be a longbusiness, since the brilliance of the moonlight rendered it necessarythat he should make a wide detour, in order to avoid possibleobservation from the windows. I had wished to join him, but:

"I count it most important that one of us should remain in the house, "he had replied. 

As a result, here was I at the open window, questioning the shadows toright and left of me, and every moment expecting to see Harleyreappear. I wondered what discoveries he would make. It would not havesurprised me to learn that there were lights in many windows of Cray'sFolly to-night. 

Although, when we had rejoined the ladies for half an hour, afterleaving Colonel Menendez's room, there had been no overt reference tothe menace overhanging the house, yet, as we separated for the night, Ihad detected again in Val Beverley's eyes that look of repressed fear. Indeed, she was palpably disinclined to retire, but was carried off bythe masterful Madame, who declared that she looked tired. 

I wondered now, as I gazed down into the moon-bathed gardens, if Harleyand I were the only wakeful members of the household at that hour. Ishould have been prepared to wager that there were others. I thought ofthe strange footsteps which so often passed Miss Beverley's room, and Idiscovered this thought to be an uncomfortable one. 

Normally, I was sceptical enough, but on this night of the full moon asI stood there at the window, the horrors which Colonel Menendez hadrelated to us grew very real in my eyes, and I thought that themysteries of Voodoo might conceal strange and ghastly truths, "Thescientific employment of darkness against light. " Colin Camber's wordsleapt unbidden to my mind; and, such is the magic of moonlight, theybecame invested with a new and a deeper significance. Strange, thattheories which one rejects whilst the sun is shining should assume aspectral shape in the light of the moon. 

Such were my musings, when suddenly I heard a faint sound as offootsteps crunching upon gravel. I leaned farther out of the window, listening intently. I could not believe that Harley would be guilty ofsuch an indiscretion as this, yet who else could be walking upon thepath below?

As I watched, craning from the window, a tall figure appeared, and, slowly crossing the gravel path, descended the moss-grown steps to theTudor garden. 

It was Colonel Menendez!

He was bare-headed, but fully dressed as I had seen him in the smoking-room; and not yet grasping the portent of his appearance at that hour, but merely wondering why he had not yet retired, I continued to watchhim. As I did so, something in his gait, something unnatural in hismovements, caught hold of my mind with a sudden great conviction. Hehad reached the path which led to the sun-dial, and with short, queer, ataxic steps was proceeding in its direction, a striking figure in thebrilliant moonlight which touched his gray hair with a silvery sheen. 

His unnatural, automatic movements told their own story. He was walkingin his sleep! Could it be in obedience to the call of M'kombo?

My throat grew dry and I knew not how to act. Unwillingly it seemed, with ever-halting steps, the figure moved onward. I could see that hisfists were tightly clenched and that he held his head rigidly upright. All horrors, real and imaginary, which I had ever experienced, culminated in the moment when I saw this man of inflexible character, Icould have sworn of indomitable will, moving like a puppet under theinfluence of some unnameable force. 

He was almost come to the sun-dial when I determined to cry out. Then, remembering the shock experienced by a suddenly awakened somnambulist, and remembering that the Chinese ladder hung from the window at myfeet, I changed my mind. Checking the cry upon my lips, I got astrideof the window ledge, and began to grope for the bamboo rungs beneathme. I had found the first of these, and, turning, had begun to descend, when:

"Knox! Knox!" came softly from the opening in the box hedge, "what thedevil are you about?"

It was Paul Harley returned from his tour of the building. 

"Harley!" I whispered, descending, "quick! the Colonel has just goneinto the Tudor garden!"

"What!" There was a note of absolute horror in the exclamation. "Youshould have stopped him, Knox, you should have stopped him!" criedHarley, and with that he ran off in the same direction. 

Disentangling my foot from the rungs of the ladder which lay upon theground, I was about to follow, when it happened--that strange andghastly thing toward which, secretly, darkly, events had been tending. 

The crack of a rifle sounded sharply in the stillness, echoing and re-echoing from wing to wing of Cray's Folly and then, more dimly, up thewooded slopes beyond! Somewhere ahead of me I heard Harley cry out:

"My God, I am too late! They have got him!"

Then, hotfoot, I was making for the entrance to the garden. Just as Icame to it and raced down the steps I heard another sound the memory ofwhich haunts me to this day. 

Where it came from I had no idea. Perhaps I was too confused to judgeaccurately. It might have come from the house, or from the slopesbeyond the house, But it was a sort of shrill, choking laugh, and itset the ultimate touch of horror upon a _scène macabre_ which, even asI write of it, seems unreal to me. 

I ran up the path to where Harley was kneeling beside the sun-dial. Analysis of my emotions at this moment were futile; I can only say thatI had come to a state of stupefaction. Face downward on the grass, armsoutstretched and fists clenched, lay Colonel Menendez. I think I sawhim move convulsively, but as I gained his side Harley looked up at me, and beneath the tan which he never lost his face had grown pale. Hespoke through clenched teeth. 

"Merciful God, " he said, "he is shot through the head. "

One glance I gave at the ghastly wound in the base of the Colonel'sskull, and then swayed backward in a sort of nausea. To see a man diein the heat of battle, a man one has known and called friend, isstrange and terrible. Here in this moon-bathed Tudor garden it was ahorror almost beyond my powers to endure. 

Paul Harley, without touching the prone figure, stood up. Indeed noexamination of the victim was necessary. A rifle bullet had pierced hisbrain, and he lay there dead with his head toward the hills. 

I clutched at Harley's shoulder, but he stood rigidly, staring up theslope past the angle of the tower, to where a gable of the Guest Housejutted out from the trees. 

"Did you hear--that cry?" I whispered, "immediately after the shot?"

"I heard it. "

A moment longer he stood fixedly watching, and then:

"Not a wisp of smoke, " he said. "You note the direction in which he wasfacing when he fell?"

He spoke in a stern and unnatural voice. 

"I do. He must have turned half right when he came to the sun-dial. "

"Where were you when the shot was fired?"

"Running in this direction. "

"You saw no flash?"

"None. "

"Neither did I, " groaned Harley; "neither did I. And short of throwinga cordon round the hills what can be done? How can I move?"

He had somewhat relaxed, but now as I continued to clutch his arm, Ifelt the muscles grow rigid again. 

"Look, Knox!" he whispered--"look!"

I followed the direction of his fixed stare, and through the trees onthe hillside a dim light shone out. Someone had lighted a lamp in theGuest House. 

A faint, sibilant sound drew my glance upward, and there overhead a batcircled--circled--dipped--and flew off toward the distant woods. Sostill was the night that I could distinguish the babble of the littlestream which ran down into the lake. Then, suddenly, came a loudflapping of wings. The swans had been awakened by the sound of theshot. Others had been awakened, too, for now distant voices becameaudible, and then a muffled scream from somewhere within Cray's Folly. 

"Back to the house, Knox, " said Harley, hoarsely. "For God's sake keepthe women away. Get Pedro, and send Manoel for the nearest doctor. It'suseless but usual. Let no one deface his footprints. My worstanticipations have come true. The local police must be informed. "

Throughout the time that he spoke he continued to search the moon-bathed landscape with feverish eagerness, but except for a faintmovement of birds in the trees, for they, like the swans on the lake, had been alarmed by the shot, nothing stirred. 

"It came from the hillside, " he muttered. "Off you go, Knox. "

And even as I started on my unpleasant errand, he had set out runningtoward the gate in the southern corner of the garden. 

For my part I scrambled unceremoniously up the bank, and emerged wherethe yews stood sentinel beside the path. I ran through the gap in thebox hedge just as the main doors were thrown open by Pedro. 

He started back as he saw me. 

"Pedro! Pedro!" I cried, "have the ladies been awakened?"

"Yes, yes! there is terrible trouble, sir. What has happened? What hashappened?"

"A tragedy, " I said, shortly. "Pull yourself together. Where is Madamede Stämer?"

Pedro uttered some exclamation in Spanish and stood, pale-faced, swaying before me, a dishevelled figure in a dressing gown. And now inthe background Mrs. Fisher appeared. One frightened glance she cast inmy direction, and would have hurried across the hall but I interceptedher. 

"Where are you going, Mrs. Fisher?" I demanded. "What has happenedhere?"

"To Madame, to Madame, " she sobbed, pointing toward the corridor whichcommunicated with Madame de Stämer's bedchamber. 

I heard a frightened cry proceeding from that direction, and recognizedthe voice of Nita, the girl who acted as Madame's maid. Then I heardVal Beverley. 

"Go and fetch Mrs. Fisher, Nita, at once--and try to behave yourself. Ihave trouble enough. "

I entered the corridor and pulled up short. Val Beverley, fullydressed, was kneeling beside Madame de Stämer, who wore a kimono overher night-robe, and who lay huddled on the floor immediately outsidethe door of her room!

"Oh, Mr. Knox!" cried the girl, pitifully, and raised frightened eyesto me. "For God's sake, what has happened?"

Nita, the Spanish girl, who was sobbing hysterically, ran along to joinMrs. Fisher. 

"I will tell you in a moment, " I said, quietly, rendered cool, as onealways is, by the need of others. "But first tell me--how did Madame deStämer get here?"

"I don't know, I don't know! I was startled by the shot. It hasawakened everybody. And just as I opened my door to listen, I heardMadame cry out in the hall below. I ran down, turned on the light, andfound her lying here. She, too, had been awakened, I suppose, and wasendeavouring to drag herself from her room when her strength failed herand she swooned. She is too heavy for me to lift, " added the girl, pathetically, "and Pedro is out of his senses, and Nita, who was thefirst of the servants to come, is simply hysterical, as you can see. "

I nodded reassuringly, and stooping, lifted the swooning woman. She wasmuch heavier than I should have supposed, but, Val Beverley leading theway, I carried her into her apartment and placed her upon the bed. 

"I will leave her to you, " I said. "You have courage, and so I willtell you what has happened. "

"Yes, tell me, oh, tell me!"

She laid her hands upon my shoulders appealingly, and looked up into myeyes in a way that made me long to take her in my arms and comforther, an insane longing which I only crushed with difficulty. 

"Someone has shot Colonel Menendez, " I said, in a low voice, for Mrs. Fisher had just entered. 

"You mean--"

I nodded. 

"Oh!"

Val Beverley opened and closed her eyes, clutching at me dizzily for amoment, then:

"I think, " she whispered, "she must have known, and that was why sheswooned. Oh, my God! how horrible. "

I made her sit down in an armchair, and watched her anxiously, butalthough every speck of colour had faded from her cheeks, she wassplendidly courageous, and almost immediately she smiled up at me, verywanly, but confidently. 

"I will look after her, " she said. "Mr. Harley will need yourassistance. "

When I returned to the hall I found it already filled with a number ofservants incongruously attired. Carter the chauffeur, who lived at thelodge, was just coming in at the door, and:

"Carter, " I said, "get a car out quickly, and bring the nearest doctor. If there is another man who can drive, send him for the police. Yourmaster has been shot. "

CHAPTER XVIII

INSPECTOR AYLESBURY OF MARKET HILTON

"Now, gentlemen, " said Inspector Aylesbury, "I will take evidence. "

Dawn was creeping grayly over the hills, and the view from the librarywindows resembled a study by Bastien-Lepage. The lamps burned yellowly, and the exotic appointments of the library viewed in that cold lightfor some reason reminded me of a stage set seen in daylight. TheVelasquez portrait mentally translated me to the billiard room wheresomething lay upon the settee with a white sheet drawn over it; and Iwondered if my own face looked as wan and comfortless as did the facesof my companions, that is, of two of them, for I must except InspectorAylesbury. 

Squarely before the oaken mantel he stood, a large, pompous man, but inthis hour I could find no humour in Paul Harley's description of him asresembling a walrus. He had a large auburn moustache tinged with gray, and prominent brown eyes, but the lower part of his face, whichterminated in a big double chin, was ill-balanced by his smallforehead. He was bulkily built, and I had conceived an unreasonabledistaste for his puffy hands. His official air and oratorical mannerwere provoking. 

Harley sat in the chair which he had occupied during our last interviewwith Colonel Menendez in the library, and I had realized--a realizationwhich had made me uncomfortable--that I was seated upon the couch onwhich the Colonel had reclined. Only one other was present, Dr. Rolleston of Mid-Hatton, a slight, fair man with a brisk, militarymanner, acquired perhaps during six years of war service. He wasstanding beside me smoking a cigarette. 

"I have taken all the necessary particulars concerning the position ofthe body, " continued the Inspector, "the nature of the wound, contentsof pockets, etc. , and I now turn to you, Mr. Harley, as the firstperson to discover the murdered man. "

Paul Harley lay back in the armchair watching the speaker. 

"Before we come to what happened here to-night I should like to bequite clear about your own position in the matter, Mr. Harley. Now"--Inspector Aylesbury raised one finger in forensic manner--"now, youvisited me yesterday afternoon, Mr. Harley, and asked for certaininformation regarding the neighbourhood. "

"I did, " said Harley, shortly. 

"The questions which you asked me were, " continued the Inspector, slowly and impressively, "did I know of any negro or coloured peopleliving in, or about, Mid-Hatton, and could I give you a list of theresidents within a two-mile radius of Cray's Folly. I gave you theinformation which you required, and now it is your turn to give mesome. Why did you ask those questions?"

"For this reason, " was the reply--"I had been requested by ColonelMenendez to visit Cray's Folly, accompanied by my friend, Mr. Knox, inorder that I might investigate certain occurrences which had takenplace here. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, raising his eyebrows, "I see. You were hereto make investigations?"

"Yes. "

"And these occurrences, will you tell me what they were?"

"Simple enough in themselves, " replied Harley. "Someone broke into thehouse one night. "

"Broke into the house?"

"Undoubtedly. "

"But this was never reported to us. "

"Possibly not, but someone broke in, nevertheless. Secondly, ColonelMenendez had detected someone lurking about the lawns, and thirdly, thewing of a bat was nailed to the main door. "

Inspector Aylesbury lowered his eyebrows and concentrated a frowningglance upon the speaker. 

"Of course, sir, " he said, "I don't want to jump to conclusions, butyou are not by any chance trying to be funny at a time like this?"

"My sense of humour has failed me entirely, " replied Harley. "I ammerely stating bald facts in reply to your questions. "

"Oh, I see. "

The Inspector cleared his throat. 

"Someone broke into Cray's Folly, then, a fact which was not reportedto me, a suspicious loiterer was seen in the grounds, again notreported, and someone played a silly practical joke by nailing the wingof a bat, you say, to the door. Might I ask, Mr. Harley, why youmention this matter? The other things are serious, but why you shouldmention the trick of some mischievous boy at a time like this I can'timagine. "

"No, " said Harley, wearily, "it does sound absurd, Inspector; I quiteappreciate the fact. But, you see, Colonel Menendez regarded it as themost significant episode of them all. "

"What! The bat wing nailed on the door?"

"The bat wing, decidedly. He believed it to be the token of a negrosecret society which had determined upon his death, hence my enquiriesregarding coloured men in the neighbourhood. Do you understand, Inspector?"

Inspector Aylesbury took a large handkerchief from his pocket and blewhis nose. Replacing the handkerchief he cleared his throat, and:

"Am I to understand, " he enquired, "that the late Colonel Menendez hadexpected to be attacked?"

"You may understand that, " replied Harley. "It explains my presence inthe house. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, "I see. It looks as though he might have donebetter if he had applied to me. "

Paul Harley glanced across in my direction and smiled grimly. 

"As I had predicted, Knox, " he murmured, "my Waterloo. "

"What's that you say about Waterloo, Mr. Harley?" demanded theInspector. 

"Nothing germane to the case, " replied Harley. "It was a reference to a battle, not to a railway station. "

Inspector Aylesbury stared at him dully. 

"You quite understand that you are giving evidence?" he said. 

"It were impossible not to appreciate the fact. " 

"Very well, then. The late Colonel Menendez thought he was in dangerfrom negroes. Why did he think that?"

"He was a retired West Indian planter, " replied Harley, patiently, "andhe was under the impression that he had offended a powerful nativesociety, and that for many years their vengeance had pursued him. Attempts to assassinate him had already taken place in Cuba and in theUnited States. "

"What sort of attempts?"

"He was shot at, several times, and once, in Washington, was attackedby a man with a knife. He maintained in my presence and in the presenceof my friend, Mr. Knox, here, that these various attempts were due tomembers of a sect or religion known as Voodoo. "

"Voodoo?"

"Voodoo, Inspector, also known as Obeah, a cult which has spread fromthe West Coast of Africa throughout the West Indies and to parts of theUnited States. The bat wing is said to be a sign used by these people. "

Inspector Aylesbury scratched his chin. 

"Now let me get this thing clear, " said he: "Colonel Menendez believedthat people called Voodoos wanted to kill him? Before we go anyfarther, why?"

"Twenty years ago in the West Indies he had shot an important member ofthis sect. "

"Twenty years ago?"

"According to a statement which he made to me, yes. "

"I see. Then for twenty years these Voodoos have been trying to killhim? Then he comes and settles here in Surrey and someone nails a batwing to his door? Did you see this bat wing?"

"I did. I have it upstairs in my bag if you would care to examine it. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, "I see. And thinking he had been followed toEngland he came to you to see if you could save him?"

Paul Harley nodded grimly. 

"Why did he go to you in preference to the local police, the properauthorities?" demanded the Inspector. 

"He was advised to do so by the Spanish ambassador, or so he informedme. "

"Is that so? Well, I suppose it had to be. Coming from foreign parts. Iexpect he didn't know what our police are for. " He cleared his throat. "Very well, I understand now what you were doing here, Mr. Harley. Thenext thing is, what were you doing tonight, as I see that both you andMr. Knox are still in evening dress?"

"We were keeping watch, " I replied. 

Inspector Aylesbury turned to me ponderously, raising a fat hand. "Onemoment, Mr. Knox, one moment, " he protested. "The evidence of onewitness at a time. "

"We were keeping watch, " said Harley, deliberately echoing my words. 

"Why?"

"More or less we were here for that purpose. You see, on the night ofthe full moon, according to Colonel Menendez, Obeah people becomeparticularly active. "

"Why on the night of the full moon?"

"This I cannot tell you. "

"Oh, I see. You were keeping watch. Where were you keeping watch?"

"In my room. "

"In which part of the house is your room?"

"Northeast. It overlooks the Tudor garden. "

"At what time did you retire?"

"About half-past ten. "

"Did you leave the Colonel well?"

"No, he had been unwell all day. He had remained in his room. "

"Had he asked you to sit up?"

"Not at all; our vigil was quite voluntary. "

"Very well, then, you were in your room when the shot was fired?"

"On the contrary, I was on the path in front of the house. "

"Oh, I see. The front door was open, then?"

"Not at all. Pedro had locked up for the night. "

"And locked you out?"

"No; I descended from my window by means of a ladder which I hadbrought with me for the purpose. "

"With a ladder? That's rather extraordinary, Mr Harley. "

"It is extraordinary. I have strange habits. "

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat again and looked frowninglyacross at my friend. 

"What part of the grounds were you in when the shot was fired?" hedemanded. 

"Halfway along the north side. "

"What were you doing?"

"I was running. "

"Running?"

"You see, Inspector, I regarded it as my duty to patrol the grounds ofthe house at nightfall, since, for all I knew to the contrary, some ofthe servants might be responsible for the attempts of which the Colonelcomplained. I had descended from the window of my room, had passedentirely around the house east to west, and had returned to mystarting-point when Mr. Knox, who was looking out of the window, observed Colonel Menendez entering the Tudor garden. "

"Oh. Colonel Menendez was not visible to you?"

"Not from my position below, but being informed by my friend, who washurriedly descending the ladder, that the Colonel had entered thegarden, I set off running to intercept him. "

"Why?"

"He had acquired a habit of walking in his sleep, and I presumed thathe was doing so on this occasion. "

"Oh, I see. So being told by the gentleman at the window that ColonelMenendez was in the garden, you started to run toward him. While youwere running you heard a shot?"

"I did. "

"Where do you think it came from?"

"Nothing is more difficult to judge, Inspector, especially when one isnear to a large building surrounded by trees. "

"Nevertheless, " said the Inspector, again raising his finger andfrowning at Harley, "you cannot tell me that you formed no impressionon the point. For instance, was it near, or a long way off?"

"It was fairly near. "

"Ten yards, twenty yards, a hundred yards, a mile?"

"Within a hundred yards. I cannot be more exact. "

"Within a hundred yards, and you have no idea from which direction theshot was fired?"

"From the sound I could form none. "

"Oh, I see. And what did you do?"

"I ran on and down into the sunken garden. I saw Colonel Menendez lyingupon his face near the sun-dial. He was moving convulsively. Running upto him, I that he had been shot through the head. "

"What steps did you take?"

"My friend, Mr. Knox, had joined me, and I sent him for assistance. "

"But what steps did you take to apprehend the murderer?"

Paul Harley looked at him quietly. 

"What steps should you have taken?" he asked. 

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat again, and:

"I don't think I should have let my man slip through my fingers likethat, " he replied. "Why! by now he may be out of the county. "

"Your theory is quite feasible, " said Harley, tonelessly. 

"You were actually on the spot when the shot was fired, you admit thatit was fired within a hundred yards, yet you did nothing to apprehendthe murderer. "

"No, " replied Harley, "I was ridiculously inactive. You see, I am amere amateur, Inspector. For my future guidance I should be glad toknow what the correct procedure would have been. "

Inspector Aylesbury blew his nose. 

"I know my job, " he said. "If I had been called in there might havebeen a different tale to tell. But he was a foreigner, and he paid forhis ignorance, poor fellow. "

Paul Harley took out his pipe and began to load it in a deliberate andlazy manner. 

Inspector Aylesbury turned his prominent eyes in my direction. 

CHAPTER XIX

COMPLICATIONS

"I am afraid of this man Aylesbury, " said Paul Harley. We sat in thedeserted dining room. I had contributed my account of the evening'shappenings, Dr. Rolleston had made his report, and Inspector Aylesburywas now examining the servants in the library. Harley and I hadobtained his official permission to withdraw, and the physician wasvisiting Madame de Stämer, who lay in a state of utter prostration. 

"What do you mean, Harley?"

"I mean that he will presently make some tragic blunder. Good God, Knox, to think that this man had sought my aid, and that I stood byidly whilst he walked out to his death. I shall never forgive myself. "He banged the table with his fist. "Even now that these unknown fiendshave achieved their object, I am helpless, helpless. There was not awisp of smoke to guide me, Knox, and one man cannot search a county. "

I sighed wearily. 

"Do you know, Harley, " I said, "I am thinking of a verse of Kipling's. "

"I know!" he interrupted, almost savagely. 

 "A Snider squibbed in the jungle. Somebody laughed and fled--"

"Oh, I know, Knox. I heard that damnable laughter, too. "

"My God, " I whispered, "who was it? What was it? Where did it comefrom?"

"As well ask where the shot came from, Knox. Out amongst all thosetrees, with a house that might have been built for a sounding-board, who could presume to say where either came from? One thing we know, that the shot came from the south. "

He leaned upon a corner of the table, staring at me intently. 

"From the south?" I echoed. 

Harley glanced in the direction of the open door. 

"Presently, " he said, "we shall have to tell Aylesbury everything thatwe know. After all, he represents the law; but unless we can getInspector Wessex down from Scotland Yard, I foresee a miscarriage ofjustice. Colonel Menendez lay on his face, and the line made by hisrecumbent body pointed almost directly toward--"

I nodded, watching him. 

"I know, Harley--toward the Guest House. "

Paul Harley inclined his head, grimly. 

"The first light which we saw, " he continued, "was in a window of theGuest House. It may have had no significance. Awakened by the sound ofa rifle-shot near by, any one would naturally get up. "

"And having decided to come downstairs and investigate, " I continued, "would naturally light a lamp. "

"Quite so. " He stared at me very hard. "Yet, " he said, "unless Mr. Colin Camber can produce an alibi I foresee a very stormy time forhim. "

"So do I, Harley. A deadly hatred existed between these two men, andprobably this horrible deed was done on the spur of the moment. It isof his poor little girl-wife that I am thinking. As though her troubleswere not heavy enough already. "

"Yes, " he agreed. "I am almost tempted to hold my tongue, Knox, until Ihave personally interviewed these people. But of course if ourblundering friend directly questions me, I shall have no alternative. Ishall have to answer him. His talent for examination, however, scarcelyamounts to genius, so that we may not be called upon for furtherdetails at the moment. I wonder how I can induce him to requisitionScotland Yard?"

He rested his chin in his hand and stared down reflectively at thecarpet. I thought that he looked very haggard, as he sat there in theearly morning light, dressed as for dinner. There was somethingpathetic in the pose of his bowed head. 

Leaning across, I placed my hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't get despondent, old chap, " I said. "You have not failed yet. "

"Oh, but I have, Knox!" he cried, fiercely, "I have! He came to me forprotection. Now he lies dead in his own house. Failed? I have failedutterly, miserably. "

I turned aside as the door opened and Dr. Rolleston came in. 

"Ah, gentlemen, " he said, "I wanted to see you before leaving. I havejust been to visit Madame de Stämer again. "

"Yes, " said Harley, eagerly; "how is she?"

Dr. Rolleston lighted a cigarette, frowning perplexedly the while. 

"To be honest, " he replied, "her condition puzzles me. "

He walked across to the fireplace and dropped the match, staring atHarley with a curious expression. 

"Has any one told her the truth?" he asked. 

"You mean that Colonel Menendez is dead?"

"Yes, " replied Dr. Rolleston. "I understood that no one had told her?"

"No one has done so to my knowledge, " said Harley. 

"Then the sympathy between them must have been very acute, " murmuredthe physician, "for she certainly knows!"

"Do you really think she knows?" I asked. 

"I am certain of it. She must have had knowledge of a danger to beapprehended, and being awakened by the sound of the rifle shot, haverealized by a sort of intuition that the expected tragedy had happened. I should say, from the presence of a small bruise which I found uponher forehead, that she had actually walked out into the corridor. "

"Walked?" I cried. 

"Yes, " said the physician. "She is a shell-shock case, of course, andwe sometimes find that a second shock counteracts the effect of thefirst. This, temporarily at any rate, seems to have happened to-night. She is now in a very curious state: a form of hysteria, no doubt, butvery curious all the same. "

"Miss Beverley is with her?" I asked. 

Dr. Rolleston nodded affirmatively. 

"Yes, a very capable nurse. I am glad to know that Madame de Stämer isin such good hands. I am calling again early in the morning, and I havetold Mrs. Fisher to see that nothing is said within hearing of the roomwhich could enable Madame de Stämer to obtain confirmation of the idea, which she evidently entertains, that Colonel Menendez is dead. "

"Does she actually assert that he is dead?" asked Harley. 

"My dear sir, " replied Dr. Rolleston, "she asserts nothing. She sitsthere like Niobe changed to stone, staring straight before her. Sheseems to be unaware of the presence of everyone except Miss Beverley. The only words she has spoken since recovering consciousness have been, 'Don't leave me!'"

"Hm, " muttered Harley. "You have not attended Madame de Stämer before, doctor?"

"No, " was the reply, "this is the first time I have entered Cray'sFolly since it was occupied by Sir James Appleton. "

He was about to take his departure when the door opened and InspectorAylesbury walked in. 

"Ah, " said he, "I have two more witnesses to interview: Madame deStämer and Miss Beverley. From these witnesses I hope to getparticulars of the dead man's life which may throw some light upon theidentity of his murderer. "

"It is impossible to see either of them at present, " replied Dr. Rolleston briskly. 

"What's that, doctor?" asked the Inspector. "Are they hysterical, orsomething?"

"As a result of the shock, Madame de Stämer is dangerously ill, "replied the physician, "and Miss Beverley is remaining with her. "

"Oh, I see. But Miss Beverley could come out for a few minutes?"

"She could, " admitted the physician, sharply, "but I don't wish her todo so. "

"Oh, but the law must be served, doctor. "

"Quite so, but not at the expense of my patient's reason. "

He was a resolute man, this country practitioner, and I saw Harleysmiling in grim approval. 

"I have expressed my opinion, " he said, finally, walking out of theroom; "I shall leave the responsibility to you, Inspector Aylesbury. Good morning, gentlemen. "

Inspector Aylesbury scratched his chin. 

"That's awkward, " he muttered. "The evidence of this woman is highlyimportant. "

He turned toward us, doubtingly, whereupon Harley stood up, yawning. 

"If I can be of any further assistance to you, Inspector, " said myfriend, "command me. Otherwise, I feel sure you will appreciate thefact that both Mr. Knox and myself are extremely tired, and have passedthrough a very trying ordeal. "

"Yes, " replied Inspector Aylesbury, "that's all very well, but I findmyself at a deadlock. "

"You surprise me, " declared Harley. 

"I can see nothing to be surprised about, " cried the Inspector. "When Iwas called in it was already too late. "

"Most unfortunate, " murmured Harley, disagreeably. "Come along, Knox, you look tired to death. "

"One moment, gentlemen, " the Inspector insisted, as I stood up. "Onemoment. There is a little point which you may be able to clear up. "

Harley paused, his hand on the door knob, and turned. 

"The point is this, " continued the Inspector, frowning portentously andlowering his chin so that it almost disappeared into the folds of hisneck, "I have now interviewed all the inmates of Cray's Folly exceptthe ladies. It appears to me that four people had not gone to bed. There are you two gentlemen, who have explained why I found you inevening dress, Colonel Menendez, who can never explain, and there isone other. "

He paused, looking from Harley to myself. 

It had come, the question which I had dreaded, the question which I hadbeen asking myself ever since I had seen Val Beverley kneeling in thecorridor, dressed as she had been when we had parted for the night. 

"I refer to Miss Val Beverley, " the police-court voice proceeded. "Thislady had evidently not retired, and neither, it would appear, had theColonel. "

"Neither had I, " murmured Harley, "and neither had Mr. Knox. "

"Your reason I understand, " said the Inspector, "or at least yourexplanation is a possible one. But if the party broke up, as you say itdid, somewhere about half-past ten o'clock, and if Madame de Stämer hadgone to bed, why should Miss Beverley have remained up?" He pausedsignificantly. "As well as Colonel Menendez?" he added. 

"Look here, Inspector Aylesbury, " I interrupted, I speaking in a veryquiet tone, I remember, "your insinuations annoy me. "

"Oh, " said he, turning his prominent eyes in my direction, "I see. Theyannoy you? If they annoy you, sir, perhaps you can explain this pointwhich is puzzling me?"

"I cannot explain it, but doubtless Miss Beverley can do so when youask her. "

"I should like to have asked her now, and I can't make out why sherefuses to see me. "

"She has not refused to see you, " replied Harley, smoothly. "She isprobably unaware of the fact that you wish to see her. "

"I don't know so much, " muttered the Inspector. "In my opinion I ambeing deliberately baffled on all sides. You can throw no light on thismatter, then?"

"None, " I answered, shortly, and Paul Harley shook his head. 

"But you must remember, Inspector, " he explained, "that the entirehousehold was in a state of unrest. "

"In other words, everybody was waiting for this very thing to happen?"

"Consciously, or subconsciously, everybody was. "

"What do you mean by consciously or subconsciously?"

 "I mean that those of us who were aware of the previous attempts onthe life of the Colonel apprehended this danger. And I believe thatsomething of this apprehension had extended even to the servants. "

 "Oh, to the servants? Now, I have seen all the servants, except thechef, who lives at a house on the outskirts of Mid-Hatton, as you mayknow. Can you give me any information about this man?"

"I have seen him, " replied Harley, "and have congratulated him upon hisculinary art. His name, I believe, is Deronne. He is a Spaniard, and alittle fat man. Quite an amiable creature, " he added. 

"Hm. " The Inspector cleared his throat noisily. 

"If that is all, " said Harley, "I should welcome an opportunity of afew hours' sleep. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector. "Well, I suppose that is quite natural, but Ishall probably have a lot more questions to ask you later. "

"Quite, " muttered Harley, "quite. Come on, Knox. Good-night, InspectorAylesbury. "

"Good-night. "

Harley walked out of the dining room and across the deserted hall. Heslowly mounted the stairs and I followed him into his room. It was nowquite light, and as my friend dropped down upon the bed I thought thathe looked very tired and haggard. 

"Knox, " he said, "shut the door. "

I closed the door and turned to him. 

"You heard that question about Miss Beverley?" I began. 

"I heard it, and I am wondering what her answer will be when theInspector puts it to her personally. "

"Surely it is obvious?" I cried. "A cloud of apprehension had settledon the house last night, Harley, which was like the darkness of Egypt. The poor girl was afraid to go to bed. She was probably sitting upreading. "

"Hm, " said Harley, drumming his feet upon the carpet. "Of course yourealize that there is one person in Cray's Folly who holds the clue tothe heart of the mystery?"

"Madame de Stämer?"

He nodded grimly. 

"When the rifle cracked out, Knox, she knew! Remember, no one had toldher the truth. Yet can you doubt that she knows?"

"I don't doubt it. "

"Neither do I. " He clenched his teeth tightly and beat his fists uponthe coverlet. "I was dreading that our friend the Inspector would ask aquestion which to my mind was very obvious. "

"You mean?--" 

"Well, what investigator whose skull contained anything more usefulthan bubbles would have failed to ask if Colonel Menendez had anenemy in the neighbourhood?"

"No one, " I admitted; "but I fear the poor man is sadly out of hisdepth. "

"He is wading hopelessly, Knox, but even he cannot fail to learn aboutCamber to-morrow. "

He stared at me in a curiously significant manner. 

"Do you mean, Harley, " I began, "that you really think----"

"My dear Knox, " he interrupted, "forgetting, if you like, all thatpreceded the tragedy, with what facts are we left? That ColonelMenendez, at the moment when the bullet entered his brain, must havebeen standing facing directly toward the Guest House. Now, you haveseen the direction of the wound?"

"He was shot squarely between the eyes. A piece of wonderfulmarksmanship. "

"Quite, " Harley nodded his head. "But the bullet came out just at thevertex of the spine. "

He paused, as if waiting for some comment, and:

"You mean that the shot came from above?" I said, slowly. 

"Obviously it came from above, Knox. Keep these two points in yourmind, and then consider the fact that someone lighted a lamp in theGuest House only a few moments after the shot had been fired. "

"I remember. I saw it. "

"So did I, " said Harley, grimly, "and I saw something else. "

"What was that?"

"When you went off to summon assistance I ran across the lawn, scrambled through the bushes, and succeeded in climbing down into thelittle gully in which the stream runs, and up on the other side. I hadproceeded practically in a straight line from the sun-dial, and do youknow where I found myself?"

"I can guess, " I replied. 

"Of course you can. You have visited the place. I came out immediatelybeside a little hut, Knox, which stands at the end of the garden of theGuest House. Ahead of me, visible through a tangle of bushes in theneglected garden, a lamp was burning. I crept cautiously forward, andpresently obtained a view of the interior of a kitchen. Just as Iarrived at this point of vantage the lamp was extinguished, but notbefore I had had a glimpse of the only occupant of the room--the manwho had extinguished the lamp. "

"Who was it?" I asked, in a low voice. 

"It was a Chinaman. "

"Ah Tsong!" I cried. 

"Doubtless. "

"Good heavens, Harley, do you think--"

"I don't know what to think, Knox. A possible explanation is that thehousehold had been aroused by the sound of the shot, and that Ah Tsonghad been directed to go out and see if he could learn what hadhappened. At any rate, I waited no longer, but returned by the sameroute. If our portly friend from Market Hilton had possessed the eyesof an Auguste Dupin, he could not have failed to note that my dressboots were caked with light yellow clay; which also, by the way, besmears my trousers. "

He stooped and examined the garments as he spoke. 

"A number of thorns are also present, " he continued. "In short, fromthe point of view of an investigation, I am a most provoking object. "

He sighed wearily, and stared out of the window in the direction of theTudor garden. There was a slight chilliness in the air, which, orperhaps a sudden memory of that which lay in the billiard room beneathus, may have accounted for the fact that I shivered violently. 

Harley glanced up with a rather sad smile. 

"The morning after Waterloo, " he said. "Sleep well, Knox. "

CHAPTER XX

A SPANISH CIGARETTE

Sleep was not for me, despite Harley's injunction, and although I wasearly afoot, the big house was already astir with significant movementswhich set the imagination on fire, to conjure up again the moonlightscene in the garden, making mock of the song of the birds and of theglory of the morning. 

Manoel replied to my ring, and prepared my bath, but it was easy to seethat he had not slept. 

No sound came from Harley's room, therefore I did not disturb him, butproceeded downstairs in the hope of finding Miss Beverley about. Pedrowas in the hall, talking to Mrs. Fisher, and:

"Is Inspector Aylesbury here?" I asked. 

"No, sir, but he will be returning at about half-past eight, so hesaid. "

"How is Madame de Stämer, Mrs. Fisher?" I enquired. 

"Oh, poor, poor Madame, " said the old lady, "she is asleep, thank God. But I am dreading her awakening. "

"The blow is a dreadful one, " I admitted; "and Miss Beverley?"

"She didn't go to her room until after four o'clock, sir, but Nitatells me that she will be down any moment now. "

"Ah, " said I, and lighting a cigarette, I walked out of the open doorsinto the courtyard. 

I dreaded all the ghastly official formalities which the day wouldbring, since I realized that the brunt of the trouble must fall uponthe shoulders of Miss Beverley in the absence of Madame de Stämer. 

I wandered about restlessly, awaiting the girl's appearance. A littletwo seater was drawn up in the courtyard, but I had not paid muchattention to it, until, wandering through the opening in the box hedgeand on along the gravel path, I saw unfamiliar figures moving in thebilliard room, and turned, hastily retracing my steps. Officialdom wasat work already, and I knew that there would be no rest for any of usfrom that hour onward. 

As I reëntered the hall I saw Val Beverley coming down the staircase. She looked pale, but seemed to be in better spirits than I could havehoped for, although there were dark shadows under her eyes. 

"Good morning, Miss Beverley, " I said. 

"Good morning, Mr. Knox. It was good of you to come down so early. "

"I had hoped for a chat with you before Inspector Aylesbury returned, "I explained. 

She looked at me pathetically. 

"I suppose he will want me to give evidence?"

"He will. We had great difficulty in persuading him not to demand yourpresence last night. "

"It was impossible, " she protested. "It would have been cruel to makeme leave Madame in the circumstances. "

"We realized this, Miss Beverley, but you will have to face the ordealthis morning. "

We walked through into the library, where a maid white-faced andfrightened looking, was dusting in a desultory fashion. She went out aswe entered, and Val Beverley stood looking from the open window outinto the rose garden bathed in the morning sunlight. 

"Oh, Heavens, " she said, clenching her hands desperately, "even now Icannot realize that the horrible thing is true. " She turned to me. "Whocan possibly have committed this cold-blooded crime?" she said in a lowvoice. "What does Mr. Harley think? Has he any idea, any ideawhatever?"

"Not that he has confided to me, " I said, watching her intently. "Buttell me, does Madame de Stämer know yet?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean has she been told the truth?"

The girl shook her head. 

"No, " she replied; "I am positive that no one has told her. I was withher all the time, up to the very moment that she fell asleep. Yet--"

She hesitated. 

"Yes?"

"She knows! Oh, Mr. Knox! to me that is the most horrible thing of all:that she knows, that she must have known all along--that the mere soundof the shot told her everything!"

"You realize, now, " I said, quietly, "that she had anticipated theend?"

"Yes, yes. This was the meaning of the sorrow which I had seen so oftenin her eyes, the meaning of so much that puzzled me in her words, theexplanation of lots of little things which have made me wonder in thepast. "

I was silent for a while, then:

"If she was so certain that no one could save him, " I said, "she musthave had information which neither he nor she ever imparted to us. "

"I am sure she had, " declared Val Beverley. 

"But can you think of any reason why she should not have confided inPaul Harley?"

"I cannot, I cannot--unless--"

"Yes?"

"Unless, Mr. Knox, " she looked at me strangely, "they were both undersome vow of silence. Oh! it sounds ridiculous, wildly ridiculous, butwhat other explanation can there be?"

"What other, indeed? And now, Miss Beverley, I know one of thequestions Inspector Aylesbury will ask you. "

"What is it?"

"He has learned, from one of the servants I presume, as he did not seeyou, that you had not retired last night at the time of the tragedy. "

"I had not, " said Val Beverley, quietly. "Is that so singular?"

"To me it is no more than natural. "

"I have never been so frightened in all my life as I was last night. Sleep was utterly out of the question. There was mystery in the veryair. I knew, oh, Mr. Knox, in some way I knew that a tragedy was goingto happen. "

"I believe I knew, too, " I said. "Good God, to think that we might havesaved him!"

"Do you think--" began Val Beverley, and then paused. 

"Yes?" I prompted. 

"Oh, I was going to say a strange thing that suddenly occurred to me, but it is utterly foolish, I suppose. Inspector Aylesbury is comingback at nine o'clock, is he not?"

"At half-past eight, so I understand. "

"I am afraid I have very little to tell him. I was sitting in my roomin an appalling state of nerves when the shot was fired. I was not evenreading; I was just waiting, waiting, for something to happen. "

"I understand. My own experience was nearly identical. "

"Then, " continued the girl, "as I unlocked my door and peeped out, feeling too frightened to venture farther in the darkness, I heardMadame's voice in the hall below. "

"Crying for help?"

"No, " replied the girl, a puzzled frown appearing between her brows. "She cried out something in French. The intonation told me that it wasFrench, although I could not detect a single word. Then I thought Iheard a moan. "

"And you ran down?"

"Yes. I summoned up enough courage to turn on the light in the corridorand to run down to the hall. And there she was lying just outside thedoor of her room. "

"Was her room in darkness?"

"Yes. I turned on the light and succeeded in partly raising her, butshe was too heavy for me to lift. I was still trying to revive her whenPedro opened the door of the servants' quarters. Oh, " she closed hereyes wearily, "I shall never forget it. "

I took her hand and pressed it reassuringly. 

"Your courage has been wonderful throughout, " I declared, "and I hopeit will remain so to the end. "

She smiled, and flushed slightly, as I released her hand again. 

"I must go and take a peep at Madame now, " she said, "but of course Ishall not disturb her if she is still sleeping. "

We turned and walked slowly back to the hall, and there just enteringfrom the courtyard was Inspector Aylesbury. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "good morning, Mr. Knox. This is Miss Beverley, Ipresume?"

"Yes, Inspector, " replied the girl. "I understand that you wish tospeak to me?"

"I do, Miss, but I shall not detain you for many minutes. "

"Very well, " she said, and as she turned and retraced her steps, hefollowed her back into the library. 

I walked out to the courtyard, and avoiding the Tudor garden and thebilliard room, turned in the other direction, passing the stables whereJim, the negro groom, saluted me very sadly, and proceeded round to thesouth side of the house. 

Inspector Aylesbury, I perceived, had wasted no time. I counted nofewer than four men, two of them in uniform, searching the lawns andthe slopes beyond, although what they were looking for I could notimagine. 

Giving the library a wide berth, I walked along the second terrace, andpresently came in sight of the east wing and the tower. There, apparently engaged in studying the rhododendrons, I saw Paul Harley. 

He signalled to me, and, crossing the lawn, I joined him where hestood. 

Without any word of greeting:

"You see, Knox, " he said, speaking in the eager manner which betokeneda rapidly working brain, "this is the path which the Colonel must havefollowed last night. Yonder is the door by which, according to his ownaccount, he came out on a previous occasion, walking in his sleep. Doyou remember?"

"I remember, " I replied. 

"Well, Pedro found it unlocked this morning. You see it facespractically due south, and the Colonel's bedroom is immediately aboveus where we stand. " He stared at me queerly. "I must have passed thisdoor last night only a few moments before the Colonel came out, for Iwas just crossing the courtyard and could see you at my window at themoment when you saw poor Menendez enter the Tudor garden. He must haveactually been walking around the east wing at the same time that I waswalking around the west. Now, I am going to show you something, Knox, something which I have just discovered. "

From his waistcoat pocket he took out a half-smoked cigarette. I staredat it uncomprehendingly. 

"Of course, " he continued, "the weather has been bone dry for more thana week now, and it may have lain there for a long time, but to me, Knox, to me it looks suspiciously fresh. "

"What is the point?" I asked, perplexedly. 

"The point is that it is a hand-made cigarette, one of the Colonel's. Don't you recognize it?"

"Good heavens!" I said; "yes, of course it is. "

He returned it to his pocket without another word. 

"It may mean nothing, " he murmured, "or it may mean everything. Andnow, Knox, we are going to escape. "

"To escape?" I cried. 

"Precisely. We are going to anticipate the probable movements of ourblundering Aylesbury. In short, I wish you to present me to Mr. ColinCamber. "

"What?" I exclaimed, staring at him incredulously. 

"I am going to ask you, " he began, and then, breaking off: "Quick, Knox, run!" he said. 

And thereupon, to my amazement, he set off through the rhododendronbushes in the direction of the tower!

Utterly unable to grasp the meaning of his behaviour, I followed, nevertheless, and as we rounded the corner of the tower Harley pulledup short, and:

"I am not mad, " he explained rather breathlessly, "but I wanted toavoid being seen by that constable who is prowling about at the bottomof the lawn making signals in the direction of the library. Presumablyhe is replying to Inspector Aylesbury who wants to talk to us. I amdetermined to interview Camber before submitting to further officialinterrogation. It must be a cross-country journey, Knox. I am afraid weshall be a very muddy pair, but great issues may hang upon the successof our expedition. "

He set off briskly toward a belt of shrubbery which marked the edge ofthe little stream. Appreciating something of his intentions, I followedhis lead unquestioningly; and, scrambling through the bushes:

"This was the point at which I descended last night, " he said. "Youwill have to wade, Knox, but the water is hardly above one's ankles. "

He dropped into the brook, waded across, and began to climb up theopposite bank. I imitated his movements, and presently, havingscrambled up on the farther side, we found ourselves standing on anarrow bank immediately under that summer house which Colin Camber hadtold me he had formerly used as a study. 

"We can scarcely present ourselves at the kitchen door, " murmuredHarley; "therefore we must try to find a way round to the front. Thereis barbed wire here. Be careful. "

I had now entered with zest into the business, and so the pair of uswaded through rank grass which in places was waist high, and on througha perfect wilderness of weeds in which nettles dominated. Presently wecame to a dry ditch, which we negotiated successfully, to findourselves upon the high road some hundred yards to the west of theGuest House. 

"I predict an unfriendly reception, " I said, panting from my exertions, and surveying my friend, who was a mockery of his ordinarily spruceself. 

"We must face it, " he replied, grimly. "He has everything to gain bybeing civil to us. "

We proceeded along the dusty high road, almost overarched by trees. 

"Harley, " I said, "this is going to be a highly unpleasant ordeal forme. "

Harley stopped short, staring at me sternly. 

"I know, Knox, " he replied; "but I suppose you realize that a man'slife is at stake. "

"You mean--?"

"I mean that when we are both compelled to tell all we know, I doubt ifthere is a counsel in the land who would undertake the defence of Mr. Colin Camber. "

"Good God! then you think he is guilty?"

"Did I say so?" asked Harley, continuing on his way. "I don't recollectsaying so, Knox; but I do say that it will be a giant's task to provehim innocent. "

"Then you believe him to be innocent?" I cried, eagerly. 

"My dear fellow, " he replied, somewhat irritably, "I have not yet metMr. Colin Camber. I will answer your question at the conclusion of theinterview. "

CHAPTER XXI

THE WING OF A BAT

For a long time our knocking and ringing elicited no response. Thebrilliant state of the door-brass afforded evidence of the fact that AhTsong had arisen, even if the other members of the household were stillsleeping, and Harley, growing irritable, executed a loud tattoo uponthe knocker. This had its effect. The door opened and Ah Tsong lookedout. 

"Tell your master that Mr. Paul Harley has called to see him uponurgent business. "

"Master no got, " replied Ah Tsong, and proceeded to close the door. 

Paul Harley thrust his hand against it and addressed the man rapidly inChinese. I could not have supposed the face of Ah Tsong capable ofexpressing so much animation. At the sound of his native tongue hiseyes lighted up, and:

"_Tchée, tchée, _" he said, turned, and disappeared. 

Although he had studiously avoided looking at me, that Ah Tsong wouldinform his master of the identity of his second visitor I did notdoubt. If I had doubted I should promptly have been disillusioned, for:

"Tell them to go away!" came a muffled cry from somewhere within. "Nospy of Devil Menendez shall ever pass my doors again!"

The Chinaman, on retiring, had left the door wide open, and I could seeright to the end of the gloomy hall. Ah Tsong presently re-appeared, shuffling along in our direction. Unemotionally:

"Master no got, " he repeated. 

Paul Harley stamped his foot irritably. 

"Good God, Knox, " he said, "this unreasonable fool almost exhausts mypatience. "

Again he addressed Ah Tsong in Chinese, and although the man's wrinkledivory face exhibited no trace of emotion, a deep understanding was tobe read in those oblique eyes; and a second time Ah Tsong turned andtrotted back to the study. I could hear a muttered colloquy inprogress, and suddenly the gaunt figure of Colin Camber burst intoview. 

He was shaved this morning, but arrayed as I had last seen him. Whilsthe was not in that state of incoherent anger which I remembered andstill resented, he was nevertheless in an evil temper. 

He strode along the hallway, his large eyes widely opened, and fixing acold stare upon the face of Harley. 

"I learn that your name is Mr. Paul Harley, " he said, entirely ignoringmy presence, "and you send me a very strange message. I am used to theways of Señor Menendez, therefore your message does not deceive me. Thegateway, sir, is directly behind you. "

Harley clenched his teeth, then:

"The scaffold, Mr. Camber, " he replied, "is directly in front of you. "

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the other, and despite my resentmentof the treatment which I had received at his hands, I could only admirethe lofty disdain of his manner. 

"I mean, Mr. Camber, that the police are close upon my heels. "

"The police? Of what interest can this be to me?"

Harley's keen eyes were searching the pale face of the man before him. 

"Mr. Camber, " he said, "the shot was a good one. "

Not a muscle of Colin Camber's face moved, but slowly he looked PaulHarley up and down, then:

"I have been called a hasty man, " he replied, coldly, "but I canscarcely be accused of leaping to a conclusion when I say that Ibelieve you to be mad. You have interrupted me, sir. Good morning. "

He stepped back, and would have closed the door, but:

"Mr. Camber, " said Paul Harley, and the tone of his voice wasarresting. 

Colin Camber paused. 

"My name is evidently unfamiliar to you, " Harley continued. "You regardmyself and Mr. Knox as friends of the late Colonel Menendez--"

At that Colin Camber started forward. 

"The _late_ Colonel Menendez?" he echoed, speaking almost in awhisper. 

But as if he had not heard him Harley continued:

"As a matter of fact, I am a criminal investigator, and Mr. Knox isassisting me in my present case. "

Colin Camber clenched his hands and seemed to be fighting with someemotion which possessed him, then:

"Do you mean, " he said, hoarsely--"do you mean that Menendez is--dead?"

"I do, " replied Harley. "May I request the privilege of ten minutes'private conversation with you?"

Colin Camber stood aside, holding the door open, and inclining his headin that grave salutation which I knew, but on this occasion, I think, principally with intent to hide his emotion. 

Not another word did he speak until the three of us stood in thestrange study where East grimaced at West, and emblems of remote devil-worship jostled the cross of the Holy Rose. The place was laden withtobacco smoke, and scattered on the carpet about the feet of thewriting table lay twenty or more pages of closely written manuscript. Although this was a brilliant summer's morning, an old-fashionedreading lamp, called, I believe, a Victoria, having a nickel receptaclefor oil at one side of the standard and a burner with a green glassshade upon the other, still shed its light upon the desk. It was onlyreasonable to suppose that Colin Camber had been at work all night. 

He placed chairs for us, clearing them of the open volumes which theybore, and, seating himself at the desk:

"Mr. Knox, " he began, slowly, paused, and then stood up, "I accused youof something when you last visited my house, something of which I wouldnot lightly accuse any man. If I was wrong, I wish to apologize. "

"Only a matter of the utmost urgency could have induced me to crossyour threshold again, " I replied, coldly. "Your behaviour, sir, wasinexcusable. "

He rested his long white hands upon the desk, looking across at me. 

"Whatever I did and whatever I said, " he continued, "one insult I laidupon you more deadly than the rest: I accused you of friendship withJuan Menendez. Was I unjust?"

He paused for a moment. 

"I had been retained professionally by Colonel Menendez, " repliedHarley without hesitation, "and Mr. Knox kindly consented to accompanyme. "

Colin Camber looked very hard at the speaker, and then equally hard atme. 

"Was it at behest of Colonel Menendez that you called upon me, Mr. Knox?"

"It was not, " said Harley, tersely; "it was at mine. And he is here nowat my request. Come, sir, we are wasting time. At any moment--"

Colin Camber held up his hand, interrupting him. 

"By your leave, Mr. Harley, " he said, and there was somethingcompelling in voice and gesture, "I must first perform my duty as agentleman. "

He stepped forward in my direction. 

"Mr. Knox, I have grossly insulted you. Yet if you knew what hadinspired my behaviour I believe you could find it in your heart toforgive me. I do not ask you to do so, however; I accept thehumiliation of knowing that I have mortally offended a guest. "

He bowed to me formally, and would have returned to his seat, but:

"Pray say no more, " I said, standing up and extending my hand. Indeed, so impressive was the man's strange personality that I felt rather asone receiving a royal pardon than as an offended party being offered anapology. "It was a misunderstanding. Let us forget it. "

His eyes gleamed, and he seized my hand in a warm grip. 

"You are generous, Mr. Knox, you are generous. And now, sir, " heinclined his head in Paul Harley's direction, and resumed his seat. 

Harley had suffered this odd little interlude in silence but now:

"Mr. Camber, " he said, rapidly, "I sent you a message by your Chineseservant to the effect that the police would be here within ten minutesto arrest you. "

"You did, sir, " replied Colin Camber, drawing toward him a piece ofnewspaper upon which rested a dwindling mound of shag. "This is mostdisturbing, of course. But since I have not rendered myself amenable tothe law, it leaves me moderately unmoved. Upon your second point, Mr. Harley, I shall beg you, to enlarge. You tell me that Don Juan Menendezis dead?"

He had begun to fill his corn-cob as he spoke the words, but from whereI sat I could just see his face, so that although his voice was wellcontrolled, the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. 

"He was shot through the head shortly after midnight. "

"What?"

Colin Camber dropped the corn-cob and stood up again, the light of adawning comprehension in his eyes. 

"Do you mean that he was murdered?"

"I do. "

"Good God, " whispered Camber, "at last I understand. "

"That is why we are here, Mr. Camber, and that is why the police willbe here at any moment. "

Colin Camber stood erect, one hand resting upon the desk. 

"So this was the meaning of the shot which we heard in the night, " hesaid, slowly. 

Crossing the room, he closed and locked the study door, then, returning, he sat down once more, entirely, master of himself. Frowningslightly he looked from Harley in my direction, and then back again atHarley. 

"Gentlemen, " he resumed, "I appreciate the urgency of my danger. Preposterous though I know it to be, nevertheless it is perhaps no morethan natural that suspicion should fall upon me. "

He was evidently thinking rapidly. His manner had grown quite cool, andI could see that he had focussed his keen brain upon the abyss which heperceived to lie in his path. 

"Before I commit myself to any statements which might be used asevidence, " he said, "doubtless, Mr. Harley, you will inform me of yourexact standpoint in this matter. Do you represent the late ColonelMenendez, do you represent the law, or may I regard you as a perfectlyimpartial enquirer?"

"You may regard me, Mr. Camber, as one to whom nothing but the truth isof the slightest interest. I was requested by the late Colonel Menendezto visit Cray's Folly. "

"Professionally?"

"To endeavour to trace the origin of certain occurrences which had ledhim to believe his life to be in danger. "

Harley paused, staring hard at Colin Camber. 

"Since I recognize myself to be standing in the position of a suspect, "said the latter, "it is perhaps unfair to request you to acquaint mewith the nature of these occurrences?"

"The one, sir, " replied Paul Harley, "which most intimately concernsyourself is this: Almost exactly a month ago the wing of a bat wasnailed to the door of Cray's Folly. "

"What?" exclaimed Colin Camber, leaning forward eagerly--"the wing of abat? What kind of bat?"

"Of a South American Vampire Bat. "

The effect of those words was curious. If any doubt respecting Camber'sinnocence had remained with me at this time I think his expression ashe leaned forward across the desk must certainly have removed it. Thatthe man was intellectually unusual, and intensely difficult tounderstand, must have been apparent to the most superficial observer, but I found it hard to believe that these moods of his were simulated. At the words "A South American Vampire Bat" the enthusiasm of thespecialist leapt into his eyes. Personal danger was forgotten. Harleyhad trenched upon his particular territory, and I knew that if ColinCamber had actually killed Colonel Menendez, then it had been the actof a maniac. No man newly come from so bloody a deed could have actedas Camber acted now. 

"It is the death-sign of Voodoo!" he exclaimed, excitedly. 

Yet again he arose, and crossing to one of the many cabinets which werein the room, he pulled open a drawer and took out a shallow tray. 

My friend was watching him intently, and from the expression upon hisbronzed face I could deduce the fact that in Colin Camber he had metthe supreme puzzle of his career. As Camber stood there, holding up anobject which he had taken from the tray, whilst Paul Harley sat staringat him, I thought the scene was one transcending the grotesque. Herewas the suspected man triumphantly producing evidence to hang himself. 

Between his finger and thumb Camber held the wing of a bat!

CHAPTER XXII

COLIN CAMBER'S SECRET

"I brought this bat wing from Haiti, " he explained, replacing it in thetray. "It was found beneath the pillow of a negro missionary who haddied mysteriously during the night. "

He returned the tray to the drawer, closed the latter, and, standingerect, raised clenched hands above his head. 

"With no thought of blasphemy, " he said, "but with reverence, I thankGod from the bottom of my heart that Juan Menendez is dead. "

He reseated himself, whilst Harley regarded him silently, then:

"'The evil that men do lives after them, '" he murmured. He rested hischin upon his hand. "A bat wing, " he continued, musingly, "a bat wingwas nailed to Menendez's door. " He stared across at Harley. "Am I tobelieve, sir, that this was the clue which led you to the Guest House?"

Paul Harley nodded. 

"It was. "

"I understand. I must therefore take no more excursions into my specialsubject, but must endeavour to regard the matter from the point of viewof the enquiry. Am I to assume that Menendez was acquainted with thesignificance of this token?"

"He had seen it employed in the West Indies. "

"Ah, the black-hearted devil! But I fear I am involving myself moredeeply in suspicion. Perhaps, Mr. Harley, the ends of justice would bebetter served if you were to question me, and I to confine myself toanswering you. "

"Very well, " Harley agreed: "when and where did you meet the lateColonel Menendez?"

"I never met him in my life. "

"Do you mean that you had never spoken to him?"

"Never. "

"Hm. Tell me, Mr. Camber, where were you at twelve o'clock last night?"

"Here, writing. "

"And where was Ah Tsong?"

"Ah Tsong?" Colin Camber stared uncomprehendingly. "Ah Tsong was inbed. "

"Oh. Did anything disturb you?"

"Yes, the sound of a rifle shot. "

"You knew it for a rifle shot?"

"It was unmistakable. "

"What did you do?"

"I was in the midst of a most important passage, and I should probablyhave taken no steps in the matter but that Ah Tsong knocked upon thestudy door, to inform me that my wife had been awakened by the sound ofthe shot. She is somewhat nervous and had rung for Ah Tsong, asking himto see if all were well with me. "

"Do I understand that she imagined the sound to have come from thisroom?"

"When we are newly awakened from sleep, Mr. Harley, we retain only animperfect impression of that which awakened us. "

"True, " replied Paul Harley; "and did Ah Tsong return to his room?"

"Not immediately. Permit me to say, Mr. Harley, that the nature of yourquestions surprises me. At the moment I fail to see their bearing uponthe main issue. He returned and reported to my wife that I was writing, and she then requested him to bring her a glass of milk. Accordingly, he came down again, and going out into the kitchen, executed thisorder. "

"Ah. He would have to light a candle for that purpose, I suppose?"

"A candle, or a lamp, " replied Colin Camber, staring at Paul Harley. Then, his expression altering: "Of course!" he cried. "You saw thelight from Cray's Folly? I understand at last. "

We were silent for a while, until:

"How long a time elapsed between the firing of the shot and Ah Tsong'sknocking at the study door?" asked Harley. 

"I could not answer definitely. I was absorbed in my work. But probablyonly a minute or two. "

"Was the sound a loud one?"

"Fairly loud. And very startling, of course, in the silence of thenight. "

"The shot, then, was fired from somewhere quite near the house?"

"I presume so. "

"But you thought no more about the matter?"

"Frankly, I had forgotten it. You see, the neighbourhood is rich withgame; it might have been a poacher. "

"Quite, " murmured Harley, but his face was very stern. "I wonder if youfully realize the danger of your position, Mr. Camber?"

"Believe me, " was the reply, "I can anticipate almost every questionwhich I shall be called upon to answer. "

Paul Harley stared at him in a way which told me that he was comparinghis features line for line with the etching of Edgar Allen Poe whichhung in his office in Chancery Lane, and:

"I do believe you, " he replied, "and I am wondering if you are in aposition to clear yourself?"

"On the contrary, " Camber assured him, "I am only waiting to hear thatJuan Menendez was shot in the grounds of Cray's Folly, and not withinthe house, to propose to you that unless the real assassin bediscovered, I shall quite possibly pay the penalty of his crime. "

"He was shot in the Tudor garden, " replied Harley, "within sight ofyour windows. "

"Ah!" Colin Camber resumed the task of stuffing shag into his corn-cob. "Then if it would interest you, Mr. Harley, I will briefly outline thecase against myself. I had never troubled to disguise the fact that Ihated Menendez. Many witnesses can be called to testify to this. He wasin Cuba when I was in Cuba, and evidence is doubtless obtainable toshow that we stayed at the same hotels in various cities of the UnitedStates prior to my coming to England and leasing the Guest House. Finally, he became my neighbour in Surrey. "

He carefully lighted his pipe, whilst Harley and I watched himsilently, then:

"Menendez had the bat wing nailed to the door of his house, " hecontinued. "He believed himself to be in danger, and associated thissign with the source of his danger. Excepting himself and possiblycertain other members of his household it is improbable that any oneelse in Surrey understands the significance of the token save myself. The unholy rites of Voodoo are a closed book to the Western nations. Ihave opened that book, Mr. Harley. The powers of the Obeah man, andespecially of the arch-magician known and dreaded by every negro as'Bat Wing, ' are familiar to me. Since I was alone at the time that theshot was fired, and for some few minutes afterward, and since the Tudorgarden of Cray's Folly is within easy range of the Guest House, to failto place me under arrest would be an act of sheer stupidity. "

He spoke the words with a sort of triumph. Like the fakir, he possessedthe art of spiritual detachment, which is an attribute of genius. Froman intellectual eminence he was surveying his own peril. Colin Camberin the flesh had ceased to exist; he was merely a pawn in a fascinatinggame. 

Paul Harley glanced at his watch. 

"Mr. Camber, " he said, "I have just sustained the most crushing defeatof my career. The man who had summoned me to his aid was killed almostbefore my eyes. One thing I must do or accept professional oblivion. "

"I understand. " Colin Camber nodded. "Apprehend his murderer?"

"Ultimately, yes. But, firstly, I must see that to the assassination ofColonel Menendez a judicial murder is not added. " 

"You mean--?" asked Camber, eagerly. 

"I mean that if you killed Menendez, you are a madman, and I haveformed the opinion during our brief conversation that you arebrilliantly sane. "

Colin Camber rose and bowed in that old-world fashion which was his. 

"I am obliged to you, Mr. Harley, " he replied. "But has Mr. Knoxinformed you of my bibulous habits?"

Paul Harley nodded. 

"They will, of course, be ascribed, " continued Camber, "and there aremany suitable analogies, to deliberate contemplation of a murderousdeed. I would remind you that chronic alcoholism is a recognized form, of insanity. "

His mood changed again, and sighing wearily, he lay back in the chair. Over his pale face crept an expression which I knew, instinctively, tomean that he was thinking of his wife. 

"Mr. Harley, " he said, speaking in a very low tone which scorned toaccentuate the beauty of his voice, "I have suffered much in the questof truth. Suffering is the gate beyond which we find compassion. Perhaps you have thought my foregoing remarks frivolous, in view of thefact that last night a soul was sent to its reckoning almost at mydoors. I revere the truth, however, above all lesser laws and above allexpediency. I do not, and I cannot, regret the end of the man Menendez. But for three reasons I should regret to pay the penalty of a crimewhich I did not commit, These reasons are--one, " he ticked them offupon his delicate fingers--"It would be bitter to know that DevilMenendez even in death had injured me; two--My work in the world, which is unfinished; and, three--My wife. "

I watched and listened, almost awed by the strangeness of the man whosat before me. His three reasons were illuminating. A casual observermight have regarded Colin Camber as a monument of selfishness. But itwas evident to me, and I knew it must be evident to Paul Harley, thathis egotism was quite selfless. To a natural human resentment and apathetic love for his wife he had added, as an equal clause, the claimof the world upon his genius. 

"I have heard you, " said Paul Harley, quietly, "and you have led me tothe most important point of all. "

"What point is that, Mr. Harley?"

"You have referred to your recent lapse from abstemiousness. Excuse meif I discuss personal matters. This you ascribed to domestic troubles, or so Mr. Knox has informed me. You have also referred to yourundisguised hatred of the late Colonel Juan Menendez. I am going to askyou, Mr. Camber, to tell me quite frankly what was the nature of thosedomestic troubles, and what had caused this hatred which survives eventhe death of its object?"

Colin Camber stood up, angular, untidy, but a figure of great dignity. 

"Mr. Harley, " he replied, "I cannot answer your questions. "

Paul Harley inclined his head gravely. 

"May I suggest, " he said, "that you will be called upon to do so undercircumstances which will brook no denial. "

Colin Camber watched him unflinchingly. 

"'The fate of every man is hung around his neck, '" he replied. 

"Yet, in this secret history which you refuse to divulge, and whichtherefore must count against you, the truth may lie which exculpatesyou. "

"It may be so. But my determination remains unaltered. "

"Very well, " answered Paul Harley, quietly, but I could see that he wasexercising a tremendous restraint upon himself. "I respect yourdecision, but you have given me a giant's task, and for this I cannotthank you, Mr. Camber. "

I heard a car pulled up in the road outside the Guest House. ColinCamber clenched his hands and sat down again in the carved chair. 

"The opportunity has passed, " said Harley. "The police are here. "

CHAPTER XXIII

INSPECTOR AYLESBURY CROSS-EXAMINES

"Oh, I see, " said Inspector Aylesbury, "a little private confab, eh?"

He sank his chin into its enveloping folds, treating Harley and myselfeach to a stare of disapproval. 

"These gentlemen very kindly called to advise me of the tragicoccurrence at Cray's Folly, " explained Colin Camber. "Won't you beseated, Inspector?"

"Thanks, but I can conduct my examination better standing. "

He turned to Paul Harley. 

"Might I ask, Mr. Harley, " he said, "what concern this is of yours?"

"I am naturally interested in anything appertaining to the death of aclient, Inspector Aylesbury. "

"Oh, so you slip in ahead of me, having deliberately withheldinformation from the police, and think you are going to get all thecredit. Is that it?"

"That is it, Inspector, " replied Harley, smiling. "An instance ofprofessional jealousy. "

"Professional jealousy?" cried the Inspector. "Allow me to remind youthat you have no official standing in this case whatever. You aremerely a member of the public, nothing more, nothing less. "

"I am happy to be recognized as a member of that much-misunderstoodbody. "

"Ah, well, we shall see. Now, Mr. Camber, your attention, please. "

He raised his finger impressively. 

"I am informed by Miss Beverley that the late Colonel Menendez lookedupon you as a dangerous enemy. "

"Were those her exact words?" I murmured. 

"Mr. Knox!"

The inspector turned rapidly, confronting me. "I have already warnedyour friend. But if I have any interruptions from you, I will have youremoved. "

He continued to glare at me for some moments, and then, turning againto Colin Camber:

"I say, I have information that Colonel Menendez looked upon you as adangerous neighbour. "

"In that event, " replied Colin Camber, "why did he lease an adjoiningproperty?"

"That's an evasion, sir. Answer my first question, if you please. "

"You have asked me no question, Inspector. "

"Oh, I see. That's your attitude, is it? Very well, then. Were you, orwere you not, an enemy of the late Colonel Menendez?"

"I was. "

"What's that?"

"I say I was. I hated him, and I hate him no less in death than I hatedhim living. "

I think that I had never seen a man so taken aback, InspectorAylesbury, drawing out a large handkerchief blew his nose. Replacingthe handkerchief, he produced a note-book. 

"I am placing that statement on record, sir, " he said. 

He made an entry in the book, and then:

"Where did you first meet Colonel Menendez?" he asked. 

"I never met him in my life. "

"What's that?"

Colin Camber merely shrugged his shoulders. 

"I will repeat my question, " said the Inspector, pompously. "Where didyou first meet Colonel Juan Menendez?"

"I have answered you, Inspector. "

"Oh, I see. You decline to answer that question. Very well, I will makea note of this. " He did so. "And now, " said he, "what were you doing atmidnight last night?"

"I was writing. "

"Where?"

"Here. "

"What happened?"

Very succinctly Colin Camber repeated the statement which he hadalready made to Paul Harley, and, at its conclusion:

"Send for the man, Ah Tsong, " directed Inspector Aylesbury. 

Colin Camber inclined his head, clapped his bands, and silently AhTsong entered. 

The Inspector stared at him for several moments as a visitor to the Zoomight stare at some rare animal; then:

"Your name is Ah Tsong?" he began. 

"Ah Tsong, " murmured the Chinaman. 

"I am going to ask you to give an exact account of your movements lastnight. "

"No sabby. "

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat. 

"I say I wish to know exactly what you did last night. Answer me. "

Ah Tseng's face remained quite expressionless, and:

"No sabby, " he repeated. 

"Oh, I see, " said the Inspector, "This witness refuses to answer atall. " 

"You are wrong, " explained Colin Camber, quietly. "Ah Tsong is aChinaman, and his knowledge of English is very limited. He does notunderstand you. "

"He understood my first question. You can't draw wool over my eyes. Heknows well enough. Are you going to answer me?" he demanded, angrily, of the Chinaman. 

"No sabby, master, " he said, glancing aside at Colin Camber. "Number-one p'licee-man gotchee no pidgin. "

Paul Harley was leisurely filling his pipe, and:

"If you think the evidence of Ah Tsong important, Inspector, " he said, "I will interpret if you wish. "

"You will do what?"

"I will act as interpreter. "

"Do you want me to believe that you speak Chinese?"

"Your beliefs do not concern me, Inspector; I am merely offering myservices. "

"Thanks, " said the Inspector, dryly, "but I won't trouble you. I shouldlike a few words with Mrs. Camber. "

"Very good. "

Colin Camber bent his head gravely, and gave an order to Ah Tsong, whoturned and went out. 

"And what firearms have you in the house?" asked Inspector Aylesbury. 

"An early Dutch arquebus, which you see in the corner, " was the reply. 

"That doesn't interest me. I mean up-to-date weapons. "

"And a Colt revolver which I have in a drawer here. "

As he spoke, Colin Camber opened a drawer in his desk and took out aheavy revolver of the American Army Service pattern. 

"I should like to examine it, if you please. "

Camber passed it to the Inspector, and the latter, having satisfiedhimself that none of the chambers were loaded, peered down the barrel, and smelled at the weapon suspiciously. 

"If it has been recently used it has been well cleaned, " he said, andplaced it on a cabinet beside him. "Anything else?"

"Nothing. "

"No sporting rifles?"

"None. I never shoot. "

"Oh, I see. "

The door opened and Mrs. Camber came in. She was very simply dressed, and looked even more child-like than she had seemed before. I think AhTsong had warned her of the nature of the ordeal which she was toexpect, but her wide-eyed timidity was nevertheless pathetic towitness. 

She glanced at me with a ghost of a smile, and:

"Ysola, " said Colin Camber, inclining his head toward me in a gravegesture of courtesy, "Mr. Knox has generously forgiven me a breach ofgood manners for which I shall never forgive myself. I beg you to thankhim, as I have done. "

"It is so good of you, " she said, sweetly, and held out her hand. "ButI knew you would understand that it was just a great mistake. "

"Mr. Paul Harley, " Camber continued, "my wife welcomes you; and this, Ysola, is Inspector Aylesbury, who desires a few moments' conversationupon a rather painful matter. "

"I have heard, I have heard, " she whispered. "Ah Tsong has told me. "

The pupils of her eyes dilated, as she fixed an appealing glance uponthe Inspector. 

In justice to the latter he was palpably abashed by the delicate beautyof the girl who stood before him, by her naivete, and by thatchildishness of appearance and manner which must have awakened thelatent chivalry in almost any man's heart. 

"I am sorry to have to trouble you with this disagreeable business, Mrs. Camber, " he began; "but I believe you were awakened last night bythe sound of a shot. "

"Yes, " she replied, watching him intently, "that is so. "

"May I ask at what time this was heard?"

"Ah Tsong told me it was after twelve o'clock. "

"Was the sound a loud one?"

"Yes. It must have been to have awakened me. "

"I see. Did you think it was in the house?"

"Oh, no. "

"In the garden?"

"I really could not say, but I think that it was farther away thanthat. "

"And what did you do?"

"I rang the bell for Ah Tsong. "

"Did he come immediately?"

"Almost immediately. "

"He was dressed, then?"

"No, I don't think he was. He had quickly put on an overcoat. Heusually answers at once, when I ring for him, you see. "

"I see. What did you do then?"

"Well, I was frightened, you understand, and I told him to find out ifall was well with my husband. He came back and told me that Colin waswriting. But the sound had alarmed me very much. "

"Oh, and now perhaps _you_ will tell me, Mrs. Camber, when and whereyour husband first met Colonel Menendez?"

Every vestige of colour fled from the girl's face. 

"So far as I know--they never met, " she replied, haltingly. 

"Could you swear to that?"

"Yes. "

I think that hitherto she had not fully realized the nature of thesituation; but now something in the Inspector's voice, or perhaps inour glances, told her the truth. She moved to where Colin Camber wassitting, looking down at him questioningly, pitifully. He put his armabout her and drew her close. 

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and returned his note-book tohis pocket. 

"I am going to take a look around the garden, " he announced. 

My respect for him increased slightly, and Harley and I followed himout of the study. A police sergeant was sitting in the hall, and AhTsong was standing just outside the door. 

"Show me the way to the garden, " directed the Inspector. 

Ah Tsong stared stupidly, whereupon Paul Harley addressed him in hisnative language, rapidly and in a low voice, in order, as I divined, that the Inspector should not hear him. 

"I feel dreadfully guilty, Knox, " he confessed, in a murmured aside. "For any Englishman, fictitious characters excepted, to possess aknowledge of Chinese is almost indecent. "

Presently, then, I found myself once more in that unkempt garden ofwhich I retained such unpleasant memories. 

Inspector Aylesbury stared all about and up at the back of the house, humming to himself and generally behaving as though he were alone. Before the little summer study he stood still, and:

"Oh, I see, " he muttered. 

What he had seen was painfully evident. The right-hand window, beneathwhich there was a permanent wooden seat, commanded an unobstructed viewof the Tudor garden in the grounds of Cray's Folly. Clearly I coulddetect the speck of high-light upon the top of the sun-dial. 

The Inspector stepped into the hut. It contained a bookshelf upon whicha number of books remained, a table and a chair, with some few otherdilapidated appointments. I glanced at Harley and saw that he wasstaring as if hypnotized at the prospect in the valley below. Iobserved a constable on duty at the top of the steps which led downinto the Tudor garden, but I could see nothing to account for Harley'sfixed regard, until:

"Pardon me one moment, Inspector, " he muttered, brusquely. 

Brushing past the indignant Aylesbury, who was examining the contentsof the shelves in the hut, he knelt upon the wooden seat and staredintently through the open window. 

"One-two-three-four-five-six-_seven_, " he chanted. "Good! That willsettle it. "

"Oh, I see, " said Inspector Aylesbury, standing strictly upright, hisprominent eyes turned in the direction of the kneeling Harley. "One, two, three, four, and so on will settle it, eh? If you don't mind mesaying so, it was settled already. "

"Yes?" replied Harley, standing up, and I saw that his eyes were verybright and that his face was slightly flushed. "You think the case isso simple as that?"

"Simple?" exclaimed the Inspector. "It's the most cunning thing thatwas ever planned, but I flatter myself that I have a good straight eyewhich can see a fairly long way. "

"Excellent, " murmured Harley. "I congratulate you. Myopia is so commonin the present generation. You have decided, of course, that the murderwas committed by Ah Tsong?"

Inspector Aylesbury's eyes seemed to protrude extraordinarily. 

"Ah Tsong!" he exclaimed. "Ah Tsong!"

"Surely it is palpable, " continued Harley, "that of the three peopleresiding in the Guest House, Ah Tsong is the only one who couldpossibly have done the deed. "

"Who could possibly--who could possibly----" stuttered the Inspector, then paused because of sheer lack of words. 

"Review the evidence, " continued Harley, coolly. "Mrs. Camber wasawakened by the sound of a shot. She immediately rang for Ah Tsong. There was a short interval before Ah Tsong appeared--and when he didappear he was wearing an overcoat. Note this point, Inspector: wearingan overcoat. He descended to the study and found Mr. Camber writing. Now, Ah Tsong sleeps in a room adjoining the kitchen on the groundfloor. We passed his quarters on our way to the garden a moment ago. Ofcourse, you had noted this? Mr. Camber is therefore eliminated from ourlist of suspects. "

The Inspector was growing very red, but ere he had time to speak Harleycontinued:

"The first of these three persons to have heard a shot fired at the endof the garden would have been Ah Tsong, and not Mrs. Camber, whose roomis upstairs and in the front of the house. If it had been fired by Mr. Camber from the spot upon which we now stand, he would still have beenin the garden at the moment when Mrs. Camber was ringing the bell forAh Tsong. Mr. Camber must therefore have returned from the end of thegarden to the study, and have passed Ah Tsong's room--unheard by theoccupant--between the time that the bell rang and the time that AhTsong went upstairs. This I submit to be impossible. There is analternative: it is that he slipped in whilst Ah Tsong, standing on thelanding above, was receiving his mistress's orders. I submit that thealternative is also impossible. We thus eliminate Mr. Camber from thecase, as I have already mentioned. "

"Eliminate--eliminate!" cried the Inspector, beginning to recover powerof speech. "Do you think you can fuddle me with a mass of words, Mr. Harley? Allow me to point out to you, sir, that you are in no wayofficially associated with this matter. "

"You have already drawn my attention to the fact, Inspector, but it cando no harm to jog my memory. "

Harley spoke entirely without bitterness, and I, who knew his everymood, realized that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Therefore Iknew that at last he had found a clue. 

"I may add, Inspector, " said he, "that upon further reflection I havealso eliminated Ah Tsong from the case. I forgot to mention that helacks the first and second fingers of his right hand; and I have yet tomeet the marksman who can shoot a man squarely between the eyes, bymoonlight, at a hundred yards, employing his third finger as trigger-finger. There are other points, but these will be sufficient to showyou that this case is more complicated than you had assumed it to be. "

Inspector Aylesbury did not deign to reply, or could not trust himselfto do so. He turned and made his way back to the house. 

CHAPTER XXIV

AN OFFICIAL MOVE

We reëntered the study to find Mrs. Camber sitting in a chair veryclose to her husband. Inspector Aylesbury stood in the open doorway fora moment, and then, stepping back into the hall:

"Sergeant Butler, " he said, addressing the man who waited there. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Go out to the gate and get Edson to relieve you. I shall want you togo back to headquarters in a few minutes. "

"Very good, sir. "

I scented what was coming, and as Inspector Aylesbury reentered theroom:

"I should like to make a statement, " announced Paul Harley, quietly. 

The Inspector frowned, and lowering his chin, regarded him with littlefavour. 

"I have not invited any statement from you, Mr. Harley, " said he. 

"Quite, " returned Harley. "I am volunteering it. It is this: I gatherthat you are about to take an important step officially. Having in viewcertain steps which I, also, am about to take, I would ask you to deferaction, purely in your own interests, for at least twenty-four hours. "

"I hear you, " said the Inspector, sarcastically. 

"Very well, Inspector. You have come newly into this case, and I assureyou that its apparent simplicity is illusive. As new facts come intoyour possession you will realize that what I say is perfectly true, andif you act now you will be acting hastily. All that I have learned I amprepared to place at your disposal. But I predict that the interferenceof Scotland Yard will be necessary before this enquiry is concluded. Therefore I suggest, since you have rejected my cooperation, that youobtain that of Detective Inspector Wessex, of the CriminalInvestigation Department. In short, this is no one-man job. You will doyourself harm by jumping to conclusions, and cause unnecessary troubleto perfectly innocent people. "

"Is your statement concluded?" asked the Inspector. 

"For the moment I have nothing to add. "

"Oh, I see. Very good. Then we can now get to business. Always withyour permission, Mr. Harley. "

He took his stand before the fireplace, very erect, and invested withhis most official manner. Mrs. Camber watched him in a way that waspathetic. Camber seemed to be quite composed, although his face wasunusually pale. 

"Now, Mr. Camber, " said the Inspector, "I find your answers to thequestions which I have put to you very unsatisfactory. "

"I am sorry, " said Colin Camber, quietly. 

"One moment, Inspector, " interrupted Paul Harley, "you have not warnedMr. Camber. "

Thereupon the long-repressed wrath of Inspector Aylesbury burst forth. 

"Then I will warn _you_, sir!" he shouted. "One more word and youleave this house. "

"Yet I am going to venture on one more word, " continued Harley, unperturbed. He turned to Colin Camber. "I happen to be a member of theBar, Mr. Camber, " he said, "although I rarely accept a brief. Have Iyour authority to act for you?"

"I am grateful, Mr. Harley, and I leave this unpleasant affair in yourhands with every confidence. "

Camber stood up, bowing formally. 

The expression upon the inflamed face of Inspector Aylesbury was reallyindescribable, and recognizing his mental limitations, I was almosttempted to feel sorry for him. However, he did not lack self-confidence, and:

"I suppose you have scored, Mr. Harley, " he said, a certain hoarsenessperceptible in his voice, "but I know my duty and I am not afraid toperform it. Now, Mr. Camber, did you, or did you not, at about twelveo'clock last night----"

"Warn the accused, " murmured Harley. 

Inspector Aylesbury uttered a choking sound, but:

"I have to warn you, " he said, "that your answers may be used asevidence. I will repeat: Did you, or did you not, at about twelveo'clock last night, shoot, with intent to murder, Colonel JuanMenendez?"

Ysola Camber leapt up, clutching at her husband's arm as if to holdhim back. 

"I did not, " he replied, quietly. 

"Nevertheless, " continued the Inspector, looking aggressively atPaul Harley whilst he spoke, "I am going to detain you pendingfurther enquiries. "

Colin Camber inclined his head. 

"Very well, " he said; "you only do your duty. "

The little fingers clutching his sleeve slowly relaxed, and Mrs. Camber, uttering a long sigh, sank in a swoon at his feet. 

"Ysola! Ysola!" he muttered. Stooping he raised the child-like figure. "If you will kindly open the door, Mr. Knox, " he said, "I will carry mywife to her room. "

I sprang to the door and held it widely open. 

Colin Camber, deadly pale, but holding his head very erect, walked inthe direction of the hallway with his pathetic burden. Mis-reading thepurpose written upon the stern white face, Inspector Aylesbury steppedforward. 

"Let someone else attend to Mrs. Camber, " he cried, sharply. "I wishyou to remain here. "

His detaining hand was already upon Camber's shoulder when Harley's armshot out like a barrier across the Inspector's chest, and Colin Camberproceeded on his way. Momentarily, he glanced aside, and I saw that hiseyes were unnaturally bright. 

"Thank you, Mr. Harley, " he said, and carried his wife from the room. 

Harley dropped his arm, and crossing, stood staring out of the window. Inspector Aylesbury ran heavily to the door. 

"Sergeant!" he called, "Sergeant! keep that man in sight. He mustreturn here immediately. "

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps following Camber's up the stairs, then Inspector Aylesbury turned, a bulky figure in the open doorway, and:

"Now, Mr. Harley, " said he, entering and reclosing the door, "you are abarrister, I understand. Very well, then, I suppose you are aware thatyou have resisted and obstructed an officer of the law in the executionof his duty. "

Paul Harley spun round upon his heel. 

"Is that a charge, " he inquired, "or merely a warning?"

The two glared at one another for a moment, then:

"From now onward, " continued the Inspector, "I am going to have no moretrouble with you, Mr. Harley. In the first place, I'll have you lookedup in the Law List; in the second place, I shall ask you to stick toyour proper duties, and leave me to look after mine. "

"I have endeavoured from the outset, " replied Harley, his good humourquite restored, "to assist you in every way in my power. You havedeclined all my offers, and finally, upon the most flimsy evidence, youhave detained a perfectly innocent man. "

"Oh, I see. A perfectly innocent man, eh?"

"Perfectly innocent, Inspector. There are so many points that you haveoverlooked. For instance, do you seriously suppose that Mr. Camber hadbeen waiting up here night after night on the off-chance that ColonelMenendez would appear in the grounds of Cray's Folly?"

"No, I don't. I have got that worked out. "

"Indeed? You interest me. "

"Mr. Camber has an accomplice at Cray's Folly. "

"What?" exclaimed Harley, and into his keen grey eyes crept a look ofreal interest. 

"He has an accomplice, " repeated the Inspector. "A certain witness wasstrangely reluctant to mention Mr. Camber's name. It was only aftervery keen examination that I got it at last. Now, Colonel Menendez hadnot retired last night, neither had a certain other party. That otherparty, sir, knows why Colonel Menendez was wandering about the gardenat midnight. "

At first, I think, this astonishing innuendo did not fully penetrate tomy mind, but when it did so, it seemed to galvanize me. Springing upfrom the chair in which I had been seated:

"You preposterous fool!" I exclaimed, hotly. 

It was the last straw. Inspector Aylesbury strode to the door andthrowing it open once more, turned to me:

"Be good enough to leave the house, Mr. Knox, " he said. "I am about tohave it officially searched, and I will have no strangers present. "

I think I could have strangled him with pleasure, but even in my rage Iwas not foolhardy enough to lay myself open to that of which theInspector was quite capable at this moment. 

Without another word I walked out of the study, took my hat and stick, and opening the front door, quitted the Guest House, from which I hadthus a second time been dismissed ignominiously. 

Appreciation of this fact, which came to me as I stepped into theporch, awakened my sense of humour--a gift truly divine which hassaved many a man from desperation or worse. I felt like a schoolboy whohad been turned out of a class-room, and I was glad that I could laughat myself. 

A constable was standing in the porch, and he looked at mesuspiciously. No doubt he perceived something very sardonic in mymerriment. 

I walked out of the gate, before which a car was standing, and as Ipaused to light a cigarette I heard the door of the Guest House openand close. I glanced back, and there was Paul Harley coming to join me. 

"Now, Knox, " he said, briskly, "we have got our hands full. "

"My dear Harley, I am both angry and bewildered. Too angry and toobewildered to think clearly. " 

"I can quite understand it. I should become homicidal if I wereforced to submit for long to the company of Inspector Aylesbury. Of course, I had anticipated the arrest of Colin Camber, and Ifear there is worse to come. "

"What do you mean, Harley?"

"I mean that failing the apprehension of the real murderer, I cannotsee, at the moment, upon what the case for the defence is to rest. "

"But surely you demonstrated out there in the garden that he could notpossibly have fired the shot?"

"Words, Knox, words. I could pick a dozen loopholes in my own argument. I had only hoped to defer the inevitable. I tell you, there is worse tocome. Two things we must do at once. "

"What are they?"

"We must persuade the man on duty to allow us to examine the Tudorgarden, and we must see the Chief Constable, whoever he may be, andprevail upon him to requisition the assistance of Scotland Yard. WithWessex in charge of the case I might have a chance. Whilst thisdisastrous man Aylesbury holds the keys there is none. "

"You heard what he said about Miss Beverley?"

We were now walking rapidly along the high road, and Harley nodded. 

"I did, " he said. "I had expected it. He was inspired with thisbrilliant idea last night, and his ideas are too few to be lightlyscrapped. If the Chief Constable is anything like the Inspector, whatwe are going to do heaven only knows. "

"I take it, Harley, that you are convinced of Colin Camber'sinnocence?"

Harley did not answer for a moment, whereupon I glanced at himanxiously, then:

"Colin Camber, " he replied, "is of so peculiar a type that I could notpresume to say of what he is capable or is not capable. The mostsignificant point in his favour is this: He is a man of unusualintellect. The planning of this cunning crime to such a man would havebeen child's play--child's play, Knox. But is it possible to believethat his genius would have failed him upon the most essential detail ofall, namely, an alibi?"

"It is not. "

"Of course it is not. Which, continuing to regard Camber as anassassin, reduces us to the theory that the crime was committed in amoment of passion. This I maintain to be also impossible. It was nodeed of impulse. "

"I agree with you. "

"Now, I believe that the enquiry is going to turn upon a very delicatepoint. If I am wrong in this, then perhaps I am wrong in my wholeconception of the case. But have you considered the mass of evidenceagainst Colin Camber?"

"I have, Harley, " I replied, sadly, "I have. "

"Think of all that we know, and which the Inspector does not know. Every single datum points in the same direction. No prosecution couldask for a more perfect case. Upon this fact I pin my hopes. Where anAylesbury rushes in I fear to tread. The analogy with an angel wasaccidental, Knox!" he added, smilingly. "In other words, it is all tooobvious. Yet I have failed once, Knox, failed disastrously, and it maybe that in my anxiety to justify myself I am seeking for subtlety whereno subtlety exists. "

CHAPTER XXV

AYLESBURY'S THEORY

There were strangers about Cray's Folly and a sort of furtive activity, horribly suggestive. We had not pursued the circular route by the highroad which would have brought us to the lodge, but had turned asidewhere the swing-gate opened upon a footpath into the meadows. It wasthe path which I had pursued upon the day of my visit to the LavenderArms. A second private gate here gave access to the grounds at a pointdirectly opposite the lake; and as we crossed the valley, making forthe terraced lawns, I saw unfamiliar figures upon the veranda, and knewthat the cumbersome processes of the law were already in motion. 

I was longing to speak to Val Beverley and to learn what had takenplace during her interview with Inspector Aylesbury, but Harley led theway toward the tower wing, and by a tortuous path through therhododendrons we finally came out on the northeast front and in sightof the Tudor garden. 

Harley crossed to the entrance, and was about to descend the steps, when the constable on duty there held out his arm. 

"Excuse me, sir, " he said, "but I have orders to admit no one to thispart of the garden. "

"Oh, " said Harley, pulling up short, "but I am acting in this case. Myname is Paul Harley. "

"Sorry, sir, " replied the constable, "but you will have to seeInspector Aylesbury. "

My friend uttered an impatient exclamation, but, turning aside:

"Very well, constable, " he muttered; "I suppose I must submit. Ourfriend, Aylesbury, " he added to me, as we walked away, "would appear tobe a martinet as well as a walrus. At every step, Knox, he proveshimself a tragic nuisance. This means waste of priceless time. "

"What had you hoped to do, Harley?"

"Prove my theory, " he returned; "but since every moment is precious, Imust move in another direction. "

He hurried on through the opening in the box hedge and into thecourtyard. Manoel had just opened the doors to a sepulchral-lookingperson who proved to be the coroner's officer, and:

"Manoel!" cried Harley, "tell Carter to bring a car round at once. "

"Yes, sir. "

"I haven't time to fetch my own, " he explained. 

"Where are you off to?"

"I am off to see the Chief Constable, Knox. Aylesbury must besuperseded at whatever cost. If the Chief Constable fails I shall nothesitate to go higher. I will get along to the garage. I don't expectto be more than an hour. Meanwhile, do your best to act as a bufferbetween Aylesbury and the women. You understand me?"

"Quite, " I returned, shortly. "But the task may prove no light one, Harley. "

"It won't, " he assured me, smiling grimly. "How you must regret, Knox, that we didn't go fishing!"

With that he was off, eager-eyed and alert, the mood of dreamyabstraction dropped like a cloak discarded. He fully realized, as Idid, that his unique reputation was at stake. I wondered, as I hadwondered at the Guest House, whether, in undertaking to clear ColinCamber, he had acted upon sheer conviction, or, embittered by the deathof his client, had taken a gambler's chance. It was unlike him to doso. But now beyond reach of that charm of manner which Colin Camberpossessed, and discounting the pathetic sweetness of his girl-wife, Irealized how black was the evidence against him. 

Occupied with these, and even more troubled thoughts, I was making myway toward the library, undetermined how to act, when I saw ValBeverley coming along the corridor which communicated with Madame deStämer's room. 

I read a welcome in her eyes which made my heart beat the faster. 

"Oh, Mr. Knox, " she cried, "I am so glad you have returned. Tell me allthat has happened, for I feel in some way that I am responsible forit. "

I nodded gravely. 

"You know, then, where Inspector Aylesbury went when he left here, after his interview with you?"

She looked at me pathetically. 

"He went to the Guest House, of course. "

"Yes, " I said; "he was close behind us. "

"And"--she hesitated--"Mr. Camber?"

"He has been detained. "

"Oh!" she moaned. "I could hate myself! Yet what could I say, whatcould I do?"

"Just tell me all about it, " I urged. "What were the Inspector'squestions?"

"Well, " explained the girl, "he had evidently learned from someone, presumably one of the servants, that there was enmity between Mr. Camber and Colonel Menendez. He asked me if I knew of this, and ofcourse I had to admit that I did. But when I told him that I had noidea of its cause, he did not seem to believe me. "

"No, " I murmured. "Any evidence which fails to dove-tail with hispreconceived theories he puts down as a lie. "

"He seemed to have made up his mind for some reason, " she continued, "that I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Camber. Whereas, of course, I have never spoken to him in my life, although whenever he has passedme in the road he has always saluted me with quite delightful courtesy. Oh, Mr. Knox, it is horrible to think of this great misfortune comingto those poor people. " She looked at me pleadingly. "How did his wifetake it?"

"Poor little girl, " I replied, "it was an awful blow. "

"I feel that I want to set out this very minute, " declared ValBeverley, "and go to her, and try to comfort her. Because I feel in myvery soul that her husband is innocent. She is such a sweet littlething. I have wanted to speak to her since the very first time I eversaw her, but on the rare occasions when we have met in the village shehas hurried past as though she were afraid of me. Mr. Harley surelyknows that her husband is not guilty?"

"I think he does, " I replied, "but he may have great difficulty inproving it. And what else did Inspector Aylesbury wish to know?"

"How can I tell you?" she said in a low voice; and biting her lipagitatedly she turned her head aside. 

"Perhaps I can guess. "

"Can you?" she asked, looking at me quickly. "Well, then, he seemed toattach a ridiculous importance to the fact that I had not retired lastnight at the time of the tragedy. "

"I know, " said I, grimly. "Another preconceived idea of his. "

"I told him the truth of the matter, which is surely quite simple, andat first I was unable to understand the nature of his suspicions. Then, after a time, his questions enlightened me. He finally suggested, quiteopenly, that I had not come down from my room to the corridor in whichMadame de Stämer was lying, but had actually been there at the time!"

"In the corridor outside her room?"

"Yes. He seemed to think that I had just come in from the door near theend of the east wing and beside the tower, which opens into theshrubbery. "

"That you had just come in?" I exclaimed. "He thinks, then, that youhad been out in the grounds?"

Val Beverley's face had been very pale, but now she flushedindignantly, and glanced away from me as she replied:

"He dared to suggest that I had been to keep an assignation. "

"The fool!" I cried. "The ignorant, impudent fool!"

"Oh, " she declared, "I felt quite ill with indignation. I am afraid Imay regard Inspector Aylesbury as an enemy from now onward, for when Ihad recovered from the shock I told him very plainly what I thoughtabout his intellect, or lack of it. "

"I am glad you did, " I said, warmly. "Before Inspector Aylesbury isthrough with this business I fancy he will know more about hislimitations than he knows at present. The fact of the matter is that heis badly out of his depth, but is not man enough to acknowledge thefact even to himself. "

She smiled at me pathetically. 

"Whatever should I have done if I had been alone?" she said. 

I was tempted to direct the conversation into a purely personalchannel, but common sense prevailed, and:

"Is Madame de Stämer awake?" I asked. 

"Yes. " The girl nodded. "Dr. Rolleston is with her now. "

"And does she know?"

"Yes. She sent for me directly she awoke, and asked me. "

"And you told her?"

"How could I do otherwise? She was quite composed, wonderfullycomposed; and the way she heard the news was simply heroic. But here isDr. Rolleston, coming now. "

I glanced along the corridor, and there was the physician approachingbriskly. 

"Good morning, Mr. Knox, " he said. 

"Good morning, doctor. I hear that your patient is much improved?"

"Wonderfully so, " he answered. "She has enough courage for ten men. Shewishes to see you, Mr. Knox, and to hear your account of the tragedy. "

"Do you think it would be wise?"

"I think it would be best. "

"Do you hold any hope of her permanently recovering the use of herlimbs?"

Dr. Rolleston shook his head doubtfully. 

"It may have only been temporary, " he replied. "These obscure nervousaffections are very fickle. It is unsafe to make predictions. Butmentally, at least, she is quite restored from the effects of lastnight's shock. You need apprehend no hysteria or anything of thatnature, Mr. Knox. "

"Oh, I see, " exclaimed a loud voice behind us. 

We all three turned, and there was Inspector Aylesbury crossing thehall in our direction. 

"Good morning, Dr. Rolleston, " he said, deliberately ignoring mypresence. "I hear that your patient is quite well again this morning?"

"She is much improved, " returned the physician, dryly. 

"Then I can get her testimony, which is most important to my case?"

"She is somewhat better. If she cares to see you I do not forbid theinterview. "

"Oh, that's good of you, doctor. " He bowed to Miss Beverley. "Perhaps, Miss, you would ask Madame de Stämer to see me for a few minutes. "

Val Beverley looked at me appealingly then shrugged her shoulders, turned aside, and walked in the direction of Madame de Stämer's door. 

"Well, " said Dr. Rolleston, in his brisk way, shaking me by the hand, "I must be getting along. Good morning, Mr. Knox. Good morning, Inspector Aylesbury. "

He walked rapidly out to his waiting car. The presence of InspectorAylesbury exercised upon Dr. Rolleston a similar effect to that which ared rag has upon a bull. As he took his departure, the Inspector drewout his pocket-book, and, humming gently to himself, began to consultcertain entries therein, with a portentous air of reflection whichwould have been funny if it had not been so irritating. 

Thus we stood when Val Beverley returned, and:

"Madame de Stämer will see you, Inspector Aylesbury, " she said, "butwishes Mr. Knox to be present at the interview. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, lowering his chin, "I see. Oh, very well. "

CHAPTER XXVI

IN MADAME'S ROOM

Madame de Stämer's apartment was a large and elegant one. From thewindow-drapings, which were of some light, figured satiny material, tothe bed-cover, the lampshades and the carpet, it was French. Faintlyperfumed, and decorated with many bowls of roses, it reflected, in itsornaments, its pictures, its slender-legged furniture, the personalityof the occupant. In a large, high bed, reclining amidst a number ofsilken pillows, lay Madame de Stämer. The theme of the room was violetand silver, and to this everything conformed. The toilet service was ofdull silver and violet enamel. The mirrors and some of the pictures haddull silver frames, There was nothing tawdry or glittering. The beditself, which I thought resembled a bed of state, was of the same dullsilver, with a coverlet of delicate violet I hue. But Madame'sdécolleté robe was trimmed with white fur, so that her hair, dressedhigh upon her head, seemed to be of silver, too. 

Reclining there upon her pillows, she looked like some grande dame ofthat France which was swept away by the Revolution. Immediately abovethe dressing-table I observed a large portrait of Colonel Menendezdressed as I had imagined he should be dressed when I had first seteyes on him, in tropical riding kit, and holding a broad-brimmed hat inhis hand. A strikingly handsome, arrogant figure he made, uncannilylike the Velasquez in the library. 

At the face of Madame de Stämer I looked long and searchingly. She hadnot neglected the art of the toilette. Blinds tempered the sunlightwhich flooded her room; but that, failing the service of rouge, Madamehad been pale this morning, I perceived immediately. In some subtle waythe night had changed her. Something was gone out of her face, andsomething come into it. I thought, and lived to remember the thought, that it was thus Marie Antoinette might have looked when they told herhow the drums had rolled in the Place de la Revolution on that morningof the twenty-first of January. 

"Oh, M. Knox, " she said, sadly, "you are there, I see. Come and sithere beside me, my friend. Val, dear, remain. Is this InspectorAylesbury who wishes to speak to me?"

The Inspector, who had entered with all the confidence in the world, seemed to lose some of it in the presence of this grand lady, who wasso little impressed by the dignity of his office. 

She waved one slender hand in the direction of a violet brocaded chair. 

"Sit down, Monsieur l'inspecteur, " she commanded, for it was rather acommand than an invitation. 

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and sat down. 

"Ah, M. Knox!" exclaimed Madame, turning to me with one of her rapidmovements, "is your friend afraid to face me, then? Does he think thathe has failed? Does he think that I condemn him?"

"He knows that he has failed, Madame de Stämer, " I replied, "but hisabsence is due to the fact that at this hour he is hot upon the trailof the assassin. "

"What!" she exclaimed, "what!"--and bending forward touched my arm. "Tell me again! Tell me again!"

"He is following a clue, Madame de Stämer, which he hopes will lead tothe truth. "

"Ah! if I could believe it would lead to the truth, " she said. "If Idared to believe this. "

"Why should it not?"

She shook her head, smiling with such a resigned sadness that I avertedmy gaze and glanced across at Val Beverley who was seated on theopposite side of the bed. 

"If you knew--if you knew. "

I looked again into the tragic face, and realized that this was anolder woman than the brilliant hostess I had known. She sighed, shrugged, and:

"Tell me, M. Knox, " she continued, "it was swift and merciful, eh?"

"Instantaneous, " I replied, in a low voice. 

"A good shot?" she asked, strangely. 

"A wonderful shot, " I answered, thinking that she imposed unnecessarytorture upon herself. 

"They say he must be taken away, M. Knox, but I reply: not until I haveseen him. "

"Madame, " began Val Beverley, gently. 

"Ah, my dear!" Madame de Stämer, without looking at the speaker, extended one hand in her direction, the fingers characteristicallycurled. "You do not know me. Perhaps it is a good job. You are a man, Mr. Knox, and men, especially men who write, know more of women thanthey know of themselves, is it not so? You will understand that I mustsee him again?"

"Madame de Stämer, " I said, "your courage is almost terrible. "

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"I am not proud to be brave, my friend. The animals are brave, but manycowards are proud. Listen again. He suffered no pain, you think?"

"None, Madame de Stämer. "

"So Dr. Rolleston assures me. He died in his sleep? You do not think hewas awake, eh?"

"Most certainly he was not awake. "

"It is the best way to die, " she said, simply. "Yet he, who was braveand had faced death many times, would have counted it"----she snappedher white fingers, glancing across the room to where InspectorAylesbury, very subdued, sat upon the brocaded chair twirling his capbetween his hands. "And now, Inspector Aylesbury, " she asked, "what isit you wish me to tell you?"

"Well, Madame, " began the Inspector, and stood up, evidently in anendeavour to recover his dignity, but:

"Sit down, Mr. Inspector! I beg of you be seated, " cried Madame. "Iwill not be questioned by one who stands. And if you were to walk aboutI should shriek. "

He resumed his seat, clearing his throat nervously. 

"Very well, Madame, " he continued, "I have come to you particularly forinformation respecting a certain Mr. Camber. "

"Oh, yes, " said Madame. 

Her vibrant voice was very low. 

"You know him, no doubt?"

"I have never met him. "

"What?" exclaimed the Inspector. 

Madame shrugged and glanced at me eloquently. 

"Well, " he continued, "this gets more and more funny. I am told byPedro, the butler, that Colonel Menendez looked upon Mr. Camber as anenemy, and Miss Beverley, here, admitted that it was true. Yet althoughhe was an enemy, nobody ever seems to have spoken to him, and he swearsthat he had never spoken to Colonel Menendez. "

"Yes?" said Madame, listlessly, "is that so?"

"It is so, Madame, and now you tell me that you have never met him. "

"I did tell you so, yes. "

"His wife, then?"

"I never met his wife, " said Madame, rapidly. 

"But it is a fact that Colonel Menendez regarded him as an enemy?"

"It is a fact-yes. "

"Ah, now we are coming to it. What was the cause of this?"

"I cannot tell you. "

"Do you mean that you don't know?"

"I mean that I cannot tell you. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, blankly, "I see. That's not helping me verymuch, is it?"

"No, it is no help, " said Madame, twirling a ring upon her finger. 

The Inspector cleared his throat again, then:

"There had been other attempts, I believe, at assassination?" he asked. 

Madame nodded. 

"Several. "

"Did you witness any of these?"

"None of them. "

"But you know that they took place?"

"Juan--Colonel Menendez--had told me so. "

"And he suspected that there was someone lurking about this house?"

"Yes. "

"Also, someone broke in?"

"There were doors unfastened, and a great disturbance, so I supposesomeone must have done so. "

I wondered if he would refer to the bat wing nailed to the door, but hehad evidently decided that this clue was without importance, nor did heonce refer to the aspect of the case which concerned Voodoo. Hepossessed a sort of mulish obstinacy, and was evidently determined touse no scrap of information which he had obtained from Paul Harley. 

"Now, Madame, " said he, "you heard the shot fired last night?"

"I did. "

"It woke you up?"

"I was already awake. "

"Oh, I see: you were awake?"

"I was awake. "

"Where did you think the sound came from?"

"From back yonder, beyond the east wing. "

"Beyond the east wing?" muttered Inspector Aylesbury. "Now, let mesee. " He turned ponderously in his chair, gazing out of the windows. "We look out on the south here? You say the sound of the shot came fromthe east?"

"So it seemed to me. "

"Oh. " This piece of information seemed badly to puzzle him. "And whatthen?"

"I was so startled that I ran to the door before I remembered that Icould not walk. "

She glanced aside at me with a tired smile, and laid her hand upon myarm in an oddly caressing way, as if to say, "He is so stupid; I shouldnot have expressed myself in that way. "

Truly enough the Inspector misunderstood, for:

"I don't follow what you mean, Madame, " he declared. "You say youforgot that you could not walk?"

"No, no, I expressed myself wrongly, " Madame replied in a weary voice. "The fright, the terror, gave me strength to stagger to the door, andthere I fell and swooned. "

"Oh, I see. You speak of fright and terror. Were these caused by thesound of the shot?"

"For some reason my cousin believed himself to be in peril, " explainedMadame. "He went in dread of assassination, you understand? Very well, he caused me to feel this dread, also. When I heard the shot, somethingtold me, something told me that--" she paused, and suddenly placing herhands before her face, added in a whisper--"that it had come. "

Val Beverley was watching Madame de Stämer anxiously, and the fact thatshe was unfit to undergo further examination was so obvious that anyother than an Inspector Aylesbury would have withdrawn. The latter, however, seemed now to be glued to his chair, and:

"Oh, I see, " he said; "and now there's another point: Have you any ideawhat took Colonel Menendez out into the grounds last night?"

Madame de Stämer lowered her hands and gazed across at the speaker. 

"What is that, Monsieur l'inspecteur?"

"Well, you don't think he might have gone out to talk to someone?"

"To someone? To what one?" demanded Madame, scornfully. 

"Well, it isn't natural for a man to go walking about the garden atmidnight, when he's unwell, is it? Not alone. But if there was a ladyin the case he might go. "

"A lady?" said Madame, softly. "Yes--continue. "

"Well, " resumed the Inspector, deceived by the soft voice, "the younglady sitting beside you was still wearing her evening dress when Iarrived here last night. I found that out, although she didn't give mea chance to see her. "

His words had an effect more dramatic than he could have foreseen. 

Madame de Stämer threw her arm around Val Beverley, and hugged her soclosely to her side that the girl's curly brown head was pressedagainst Madame's shoulder. Thus holding her, she sat rigidly upright, her strange, still eyes glaring across the room at Inspector Aylesbury. Her whole pose was instinct with challenge, with defiance, and in thatmoment I identified the illusive memory which the eyes of Madame sooften had conjured up in my mind. 

Once, years before, I had seen a wounded tigress standing over hercubs, a beautiful, fearless creature, blazing defiance with dying eyesupon those who had destroyed her, the mother-instinct supreme to thelast; for as she fell to rise no more she had thrown her paw around thecowering cubs. It was not in shape, nor in colour, but in expressionand in their stillness, that the eyes of Madame de Stämer resembled theeyes of the tigress. 

"Oh, Madame, Madame, " moaned the girl, "how dare he!"

"Ah!" Madame de Stämer raised her head yet higher, a royal gesture, that unmoving stare set upon the face of the discomfited InspectorAylesbury. "Leave my apartment. " Her left hand shot out dramatically inthe direction of the door, but even yet the fingers remained curled. "Stupid, gross fool!"

Inspector Aylesbury stood up, his face very flushed. 

"I am only doing my duty, Madame, " he said. 

"Go, go!" commanded Madame, "I insist that you go!"

Convulsively she held Val Beverley to her side, and although I couldnot see the girl's face, I knew that she was weeping. 

Those implacable flaming eyes followed with their stare the figure ofthe Inspector right to the doorway, for he essayed no further speech, but retired. 

I, also, rose, and:

"Madame de Stämer, " I said, speaking, I fear, very unnaturally, "I loveyour spirit. "

She threw back her head, smiling up at me. I shall never forget thatlook, nor shall I attempt to portray all which it conveyed--for I knowI should fail. 

"My friend!" she said, and extended her hand to be kissed. 

CHAPTER XXVII

AN INSPIRATION

Inspector Aylesbury had disappeared when I came out of the hall, butPedro was standing there to remind me of the fact that I had notbreakfasted. I realized that despite all tragic happenings, I wasravenously hungry, and accordingly I agreed to his proposal that Ishould take breakfast on the south veranda, as on the previous morning. 

To the south veranda accordingly I made my way, rather despising myselfbecause I was capable of hunger at such a time and amidst such horrors. The daily papers were on my table, for Carter drove into Market Hiltonevery morning to meet the London train which brought them down; but Idid not open any of them. 

Pedro waited upon me in person. I could see that the man waspathetically anxious to talk. Accordingly, when he presently brought mea fresh supply of hot rolls:

"This has been a dreadful blow to you, Pedro?" I said. 

"Dreadful, sir, " he returned; "fearful. I lose a splendid master, Ilose my place, and I am far, far from home. "

"You are from Cuba?"

"Yes, yes. I was with Señor the Colonel Don Juan in Cuba. "

"And do you know anything of the previous attempts which had been madeupon his life, Pedro?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all. "

"But the bat wing, Pedro?"

He looked at me in a startled way. 

"Yes, sir, " he replied. "I found it pinned to the door here. "

"And what did you think it meant?"

"I thought it was a joke, sir--not a nice joke--by someone who knewCuba. "

"You know the meaning of Bat Wing, then?"

"It is Obeah. I have never seen it before, but I have heard of it. "

"And what did you think?" said I, proceeding with my breakfast. 

"I thought it was meant to frighten. "

"But who did you think had done it?"

"I had heard Señor Don Juan say that Mr. Camber hated him, so I thoughtperhaps he had sent someone to do it. "

"But why should Mr. Camber have hated the Colonel?"

"I cannot say, sir. I wish I could tell. "

"Was your master popular in the West Indies?" I asked. 

"Well, sir--" Pedro hesitated--"perhaps not so well liked. "

"No, " I said. "I had gathered as much. "

The man withdrew, and I continued my solitary meal, listening to thesong of the skylarks, and thinking how complex was human existence, compared with any other form of life beneath the sun. 

How to employ my time until Harley should return I knew not. Commondelicacy dictated an avoidance of Val Beverley until she should haverecovered from the effect of Inspector Aylesbury's gross insinuations, and I was curiously disinclined to become involved in the gloomyformalities which ensue upon a crime of violence. Nevertheless, I feltcompelled to remain within call, realizing that there might beunpleasant duties which Pedro could not perform, and which musttherefore devolve upon Val Beverley. 

I lighted my pipe and walked out on to the sloping lawn. A gardener wasat work with a big syringe, destroying a patch of weeds which hadappeared in one corner of the velvet turf. He looked up in a sort ofstartled way as I passed, bidding me good morning, and then resuminghis task. I thought that this man's activities were symbolic of the wayof the world, in whose eternal progression one poor human life countsas nothing. 

Presently I came in sight of that door which opened into therhododendron shrubbery, the door by which Colonel Menendez had come outto meet his death. His bedroom was directly above, and as I picked myway through the closely growing bushes, which at an earlier time I hadthought to be impassable, I paused in the very shadow of the tower andglanced back and upward. I could see the windows of the little smoke-room in which we had held our last interview with Menendez; and Ithought of the shadow which Harley had seen upon the blind. I wasunable to disguise from myself the fact that when Inspector Aylesburyshould learn of this occurrence, as presently he must do, it would givenew vigour to his ridiculous and unpleasant suspicions. 

I passed on, and considering the matter impartially, found myself facedby the questions--Whose was the shadow which Harley had seen upon theblind? And with what purpose did Colonel Menendez leave the house atmidnight?

Somnambulism might solve the second riddle, but to the first I couldfind no answer acceptable to my reason. And now, pursuing my aimlessway, I presently came in sight of a gable of the Guest House. I couldobtain a glimpse of the hut which had once been Colin Camber'sworkroom. The window, through which Paul Harley had stared so intently, possessed sliding panes. These were closed, and a ray of sunlight, striking upon the glass, produced, because of an over-leaning branchwhich crossed the top of the window, an effect like that of a giant eyeglittering evilly through the trees. I could see a constable movingabout in the garden. Ever and anon the sun shone upon the buttons ofhis tunic. 

By such steps my thoughts led me on to the pathetic figure of YsolaCamber. Save for the faithful Ah Tsong she was alone in that house towhich tragedy had come unbidden, unforeseen. I doubted if she had awoman friend in all the countryside. Doubtless, I reflected, the oldhousekeeper, to whom she had referred, would return as speedily aspossible, but pending the arrival of someone to whom she could confideall her sorrows, I found it almost impossible to contemplate theloneliness of the tragic little figure. 

Such was my mental state, and my thoughts were all of compassion, whensuddenly, like a lurid light, an inspiration came to me. 

I had passed out from the shadow of the tower and was walking in thedirection of the sentinel yews when this idea, dreadfully complete, leapt to my mind. I pulled up short, as though hindered by a palpablebarrier. Vague musings, evanescent theories, vanished like smoke, and aghastly, consistent theory of the crime unrolled itself before me, withall the cold logic of truth. 

"My God!" I groaned aloud, "I see it all. I see it all. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

MY THEORY OF THE CRIME

The afternoon was well advanced before Paul Harley returned. 

So deep was my conviction that I had hit upon the truth, and so welldid my theory stand every test which I could apply to it, that I feltdisinclined for conversation with any one concerned in the tragedyuntil I should have submitted the matter to the keen analysis ofHarley. Upon the sorrow of Madame de Stämer I naturally did notintrude, nor did I seek to learn if she had carried out her project oflooking upon the dead man. 

About mid-day the body was removed, after which an oppressive andawesome stillness seemed to descend upon Cray's Folly. 

Inspector Aylesbury had not returned from his investigations at theGuest House, and learning that Miss Beverley was remaining with Madamede Stämer, I declined to face the ordeal of a solitary luncheon in thedining room, and merely ate a few sandwiches, walking over to theLavender Arms for a glass of Mrs. Wootton's excellent ale. 

Here I found the bar-parlour full of local customers, and although aheated discussion was in progress as I opened the door, silence fellupon my appearance. Mrs. Wootton greeted me sadly. 

"Ah, sir, " she said, as she placed a mug before me; "of course you'veheard?"

"I have, madam, " I replied, perceiving that she did not know me to be aguest at Cray's Folly. 

"Well, well!" She shook her head. "It had to come, with all theseforeign folk about. "

She retired to some sanctum at the rear of the bar, and I drank my beeramid one of those silences which sometimes descend upon such agathering when a stranger appears in its midst. Not until I moved todepart was this silence broken, then:

"Ah, well, " said an old fellow, evidently a farm-hand, "we know now whyhe was priming of hisself with the drink, we do. "

"Aye!" came a growling chorus. 

I came out of the Lavender Arms full of a knowledge that so far as Mid-Hatton was concerned, Colin Camber was already found guilty. 

I had hoped to see something of Val Beverley on my return, but sheremained closeted with Madame de Stämer, and I was left in lonelinessto pursue my own reflections, and to perfect that theory which hadpresented itself to my mind. 

In Harley's absence I had taken it upon myself to give an order toPedro to the effect that no reporters were to be admitted; and in thisI had done well. So quickly does evil news fly that, between mid-dayand the hour of Harley's return, no fewer than five reporters, Ibelieve, presented themselves at Cray's Folly. Some of the morepersistent continued to haunt the neighbourhood, and I had withdrawn tothe deserted library, in order to avoid observation, when I heard a cardraw up in the courtyard, and a moment later heard Harley asking forme. 

I hurried out to meet him, and as I appeared at the door of thelibrary:

"Hullo, Knox, " he called, running up the steps. "Any developments?"

"No actual development?" I replied, "except that several members of thePress have been here. "

"You told them nothing?" he asked, eagerly. 

"No; they were not admitted. "

"Good, good, " he muttered. 

"I had expected you long before this, Harley. "

"Naturally, " he said, with a sort of irritation. "I have been all theway to Whitehall and back. "

"To Whitehall! What, you have been to London?"

"I had half anticipated it, Knox. The Chief Constable, although quite adecent fellow, is a stickler for routine. On the strength of thosefacts which I thought fit to place before him he could see no reasonfor superseding Aylesbury. Accordingly, without further waste of time, I headed straight for Whitehall. You may remember a somewhat elaboratereport which I completed upon the eve of our departure from ChanceryLane?"

I nodded. 

"A very thankless job for the Home Office, Knox. But I received myreward to-day. Inspector Wessex has been placed in charge of the caseand I hope he will be down here within the hour. Pending his arrival Iam tied hand and foot. "

We had walked into the library, and, stopping, suddenly, Harley staredme very hard in the face. 

"You are bottling something up, Knox, " he declared. "Out with it. HasAylesbury distinguished himself again?"

"No, " I replied; "on the contrary. He interviewed Madame de Stämer, andcame out with a flea in his ear. "

"Good, " said Harley, smiling. "A clever woman, and a woman of spirit, Knox. "

"You are right, " I replied, "and you are also right in supposing that Ihave a communication to make to you. "

"Ah, I thought so. What is it?"

"It is a theory, Harley, which appears to me to cover the facts of thecase. "

"Indeed?" said he, continuing to stare at me. "And what inspired it?"

"I was staring up at the window of the smoke-room to-day, and Iremembered the shadow which you had seen upon the blind. "

"Yes?" he cried, eagerly; "and does your theory explain that, too?"

"It does, Harley. "

"Then I am all anxiety to hear it. "

"Very well, then, I will endeavour to be brief. Do you recollect MissBeverley's story of the unfamiliar footsteps which passed her door onseveral occasions?"

"Perfectly. "

"You recollect that you, yourself, heard someone crossing the hall, andthat both of us heard a door close?"

"We did. "

"And finally you saw the shadow of a woman upon the blind of theColonel's private study. Very well. Excluding the preposterous theoryof Inspector Aylesbury, there is no woman in Cray's Folly whosefootsteps could possibly have been heard in that corridor, and whoseshadow could possibly have been seen upon the blind of ColonelMenendez's room. "

"I agree, " said Harley, quietly. "I have definitely eliminated all theservants from the case. Therefore, proceed, Knox, I am all attention. "

"I will do so. There is a door on the south side of the house, close tothe tower and opening into the rhododendron shrubbery. This was thedoor used by Colonel Menendez in his somnambulistic rambles, accordingto his own account. Now, assuming his statement to have been untrue inone particular, that is, assuming he was not walking in his sleep, butwas fully awake--"

"Eh?" exclaimed Harley, his expression undergoing a subtle change. "Doyou think his statement was untrue?"

"According to my theory, Harley, his statement was untrue, in thisparticular, at least. But to proceed: Might he not have employed thisdoor to admit a nocturnal visitor?"

"It is feasible, " muttered Harley, watching me closely. 

"For the Colonel to descend to this side door when the household wassleeping, " I continued, "and to admit a woman secretly to Cray's Folly, would have been a simple matter. Indeed, on the occasions of thesevisits he might even have unbolted the door himself after Pedro hadbolted it, in order to enable her to enter without his descending forthe purpose of admitting her. "

"By heavens! Knox, " said Harley, "I believe you have it!"

His eyes were gleaming excitedly, and I proceeded:

"Hence the footsteps which passed Miss Beverley's door, hence theshadow which you saw upon the blind; and the sounds which you detectedin the hall were caused, of course, by this woman retiring. It was thedoor leading into the shrubbery which we heard being closed!"

"Continue, " said Harley; "although I can plainly see to what this isleading. "

"You can see, Harley?" I cried; "of course you can see! The enmitybetween Camber and Menendez is understandable at last. "

"You mean that Menendez was Mrs. Camber's lover?"

"Don't you agree with me?"

"It is feasible, Knox, dreadfully feasible. But go on. "

"My theory also explains Colin Camber's lapse from sobriety. It islegitimate to suppose that his wife, who was a Cuban, had been intimatewith Menendez before her meeting with Camber. Perhaps she had brokenthe tie at the time of her marriage, but this is mere supposition. Then, her old lover, his infatuation by no means abated, leases theproperty adjoining that of his successful rival. "

"Knox!" exclaimed Paul Harley, "this is brilliant. I am all impatiencefor the _dénouement_. "

"It is coming, " I said, triumphantly. "Relations are reëstablished, clandestinely. Colin Camber learns of these. A passionate quarrelensues, resulting in a long drinking bout designed to drown hissorrows. His love for his wife is so great that he has forgiven herthis infidelity. Accordingly, she has promised to see her lover nomore. Hers was the figure which you saw outlined upon the blind on thenight before the tragedy, Harley! The gestures, which you described asthose of despair, furnish evidence to confirm my theory. It was a finalmeeting!"

"Hm, " muttered Harley. "It would be taking big chances, because we haveto suppose, Knox, that these visits to Cray's Folly were made whilsther husband was at work in the study. If he had suddenly decided toturn in, all would have been discovered. "

"True, " I agreed, "but is it impossible?"

"No, not a bit. Women are dreadful gamblers. But continue, Knox. "

"Very well. Colonel Menendez has refused to accept his dismissal, andMrs. Camber had been compelled to promise, without necessarilyintending to carry out the promise, that she would see him again on thefollowing night. She failed to come; whereupon he, growing impatient, walked out into the grounds of Cray's Folly to look for her. She mayeven have intended to come and have been intercepted by her husband. But in any event, the latter, seeing the man who had wronged him, standing out there in the moonlight, found temptation to be too strong. On the whole, I favour the idea that he had intercepted his wife, andsnatching up a rifle, had actually gone out into the garden with theintention of shooting Menendez. "

"I see, " murmured Harley in a low voice. "This hypothesis, Knox, doesnot embrace the Bat Wing episodes. "

"If Menendez has lied upon one point, " I returned, "it is permissibleto suppose that his entire story was merely a tissue of falsehood. "

"I see. But why did he bring me to Cray's Folly?"

"Don't you understand, Harley?" I cried, excitedly. "He really fearedfor his life, since he knew that Camber had discovered the intrigue. "

Paul Harley heaved a long sigh. 

"I must congratulate you, Knox, " he said, gravely, "upon a reallysplendid contribution to my case. In several particulars I find myselfnearer to the truth. But the definite establishment or shattering ofyour theory rests upon one thing. "

"What's that?" I asked. "You are surely not thinking of the bat wingnailed upon the door?"

"Not at all, " he replied. "I am thinking of the seventh yew tree fromthe northeast corner of the Tudor garden. "

CHAPTER XXIX

A LEE-ENFIELD RIFLE

What reply I should have offered to this astonishing remark I cannotsay, but at that moment the library door burst open unceremoniously, and outlined against the warmly illuminated hall, where sunlight poureddown through the dome, I beheld the figure of Inspector Aylesbury. 

"Ah!" he cried, loudly, "so you have come back, Mr. Harley? I thoughtyou had thrown up the case. "

"Did you?" said Harley, smilingly. "No, I am still persevering in myineffectual way. "

"Oh, I see. And have you quite convinced yourself that Colin Camber isinnocent?"

"In one or two particulars my evidence remains incomplete. "

"Oh, in one or two particulars, eh? But generally speaking you don'tdoubt his innocence?"

"I don't doubt it for a moment. "

Harley's words surprised me. I recognized, of course, that he mightmerely be bluffing the Inspector, but it was totally alien to hischaracter to score a rhetorical success at the expense of what he knewto be the truth; and so sure was I of the accuracy of my deductionsthat I no longer doubted Colin Camber to be the guilty man. 

"At any rate, " continued the Inspector, "he is in detention, and likelyto remain there. If you are going to defend him at the Assizes, I don'tenvy you your job, Mr. Harley. "

He was blatantly triumphant, so that the fact was evident enough thathe had obtained some further piece of evidence which he regarded asconclusive. 

"I have detained the man Ah Tsong as well, " he went on. "He was anaccomplice of your innocent friend, Mr. Harley. "

"Was he really?" murmured Harley. 

"Finally, " continued the Inspector, "I have only to satisfy myselfregarding the person who lured Colonel Menendez out into the groundslast night, to have my case complete. "

I turned aside, unable to trust myself, but Harley remarked quitecoolly:

"Your industry is admirable, Inspector Aylesbury, but I seem toperceive that you have made a very important discovery of some kind. "

"Ah, you have got wind of it, have you?"

"I have no information on the point, " replied Harley, "but your mannerurges me to suggest that perhaps success has crowned your efforts?"

"It has, " replied the Inspector. "I am a man that doesn't do things byhalves. I didn't content myself with just staring out of the window ofthat little hut in the grounds of the Guest House, like you did, Mr. Harley, and saying 'twice one are two'--I looked at every book on theshelves, and at every page of those books. "

"You must have materially added to your information?"

"Ah, very likely, but my enquiries didn't stop there. I had the floorup. "

"The floor of the hut?"

"The floor of the hut, sir. The planks were quite loose. I hadsatisfied myself that it was a likely hiding place. "

"What did you find there, a dead rat?"

Inspector Aylesbury turned, and:

"Sergeant Butler, " he called. 

The sergeant came forward from the hall, carrying a cricket bag. ThisInspector Aylesbury took from him, placing it upon the floor of thelibrary at his feet. 

"New, sir, " said he, "I borrowed this bag in which to bring theevidence away--the hanging evidence which I discovered beneath thefloor of the hut. "

I had turned again, when the man had referred to his discovery; andnow, glancing at Harley, I saw that his face had grown suddenly verystern. 

"Show me your evidence, Inspector?" he asked, shortly. 

"There can be no objection, " returned the Inspector. 

Opening the bag, he took out a rifle!

Paul Harley's hands were thrust in his coat pockets, By the movement ofthe cloth I could see that he had clenched his fists. Here wasconfirmation of my theory!

"A Service rifle, " said the Inspector, triumphantly, holding up theweapon. "A Lee-Enfield charger-loader. It contains four cartridges, three undischarged, and one discharged. He had not even troubled toeject it. "

The Inspector dropped the weapon into the bag with a dramatic movement. 

"Fancy theories about bat wings and Voodoos, " he said, scornfully, "maysatisfy you, Mr. Harley, but I think this rifle will prove moresatisfactory to the Coroner. "

He picked up the bag and walked out of the library. 

Harley stood posed in a curiously rigid way, looking after him. Evenwhen the door had closed he did not change his position at once. Then, turning slowly, he walked to an armchair and sat down. 

"Harley, " I said, hesitatingly, "has this discovery surprised you?"

"Surprised me?" he returned in a low voice. "It has appalled me. "

"Then, although you seemed to regard my theory as sound, " I continuedrather resentfully, "all the time you continued to believe Colin Camberto be innocent?"

"I believe so still. "

"What?"

"I thought we had determined, Knox, " he said, wearily, "that a man ofCamber's genius, having decided upon murder, must have arranged for anunassailable alibi. Very well. Are we now to leap to the other end ofthe scale, and to credit him with such utter stupidity as to placehanging evidence where it could not fail to be discovered by the mostidiotic policeman? Preserve your balance, Knox. Theories are wildhorses. They run away with us. I know that of old, for which veryreason I always avoid speculation until I have a solid foundation offact upon which to erect it. "

"But, my dear fellow, " I cried, "was Camber to foresee that the floorof the hut would be taken up?"

Harley sighed, and leaned back in his chair. 

"Do you recollect your first meeting with this man, Knox?"

"Perfectly. "

"What occurred?"

"He was slightly drunk. "

"Yes, but what was the nature of his conversation?"

"He suggested that I had recognized his resemblance to Edgar AllanPoe. "

"Quite. What had led him to make this suggestion?"

"The manner in which I had looked at him, I suppose. "

"Exactly. Although not quite sober, from a mere glance he was able todetect what you were thinking. Do you wish me to believe, Knox, thatthis same man had not foreseen what the police would think when ColonelMenendez was found shot within a hundred yards of the garden of theGuest House?"

I was somewhat taken aback, for Harley's argument was strictly logical, and:

"It is certainly very puzzling, " I admitted. 

"Puzzling!" he exclaimed; "it is maddening. This case is like a Syrianvillage-mound. Stratum lies under stratum, and in each we meet withevidence of more refined activity than in the last. It seems we haveyet to go deeper. "

He took out his pipe and began to fill it. 

"Tell me about the interview with Madame de Stämer, " he directed. 

I took a seat facing him, and he did not once interrupt me throughoutmy account of Inspector Aylesbury's examination of Madame. 

"Good, " he commented, when I had told how the Inspector was dismissed. "But at least, Knox, he has a working theory, to which he sticks likean express to the main line, whereas I find myself constantly calledupon to readjust my perspective. Directly I can enjoy freedom ofmovement, however, I shall know whether my hypothesis is a house ofcards or a serviceable structure. "

"Your hypothesis?" I said. "Then you really have a theory which isentirely different from mine?"

"Not entirely different, Knox, merely not so comprehensive. I havecontented myself thus far with a negative theory, if I may so expressit. "

"Negative theory?"

"Exactly. We are dealing, my dear fellow, with a case of bewilderingintricacies. For the moment I have focussed upon one feature only. "

"What is that?"

"Upon proving that Colin Camber did not do the murder. "

"Did _not_ do it?"

"Precisely, Knox. Respecting the person or persons who did do it, I hadpreserved a moderately open mind, up to the moment that InspectorAylesbury entered the library with the Lee-Enfield. "

"And then?" I said, eagerly. 

"Then, " he replied, "I began to think hard. However, since I practisewhat I preach, or endeavour to do so, I must not permit myself tospeculate upon this aspect of the matter until I have tested my theoryof Camber's innocence. "

"In other words, " I said, bitterly, "although you encouraged me tounfold my ideas regarding Mrs. Camber, you were merely laughing at meall the time!"

"My dear Knox!" exclaimed Harley, jumping up impulsively, "please don'tbe unjust. Is it like me? On the contrary, Knox"--he looked me squarelyin the eyes--"you have given me a platform on which already I havebegun to erect one corner of a theory of the crime. Without new facts Ican go no further. But this much at least you have done. "

"Thanks, Harley, " I murmured, and indeed I was gratified; "but where doyour other corners rest?"

"They rest, " he said, slowly, "they rest, respectively, upon a batwing, a yew tree, and a Lee-Enfield charger-loader. "

CHAPTER XXX

THE SEVENTH YEW TREE

Detective-Inspector Wessex arrived at about five o'clock; a quiet, resourceful man, highly competent, and having the appearance of an ex-soldier. His respect for the attainments of Paul Harley alone markedhim a student of character. I knew Wessex well, and was delighted whenPedro showed him into the library. 

"Thank God you are here, Wessex, " said Harley, when we had exchangedgreetings. "At last I can move. Have you seen the local officer incharge?"

"No, " replied the Inspector, "but I gather that I have beenrequisitioned over his head. "

"You have, " said Harley, grimly, "and over the head of the ChiefConstable, too. But I suppose it is unfair to condemn a man for theshortcoming with which nature endowed him, therefore we must endeavourto let Inspector Aylesbury down as lightly as possible. I have an ideathat I heard him return a while ago. "

He walked out into the hall to make enquiries, and a few moments laterI heard Inspector Aylesbury's voice. 

"Ah, there you are, Inspector Aylesbury, " said Harley, cheerily. "Willyou please step into the library for a moment?"

The Inspector entered, frowning heavily, followed by my friend. 

"There is no earthly reason why we should get at loggerheads over thisbusiness, " Harley continued; "but the fact of the matter is, InspectorAylesbury, that there are depths in this case to which neither you norI have yet succeeded in penetrating. You have a reputation to consider, and so have I. Therefore I am sure you will welcome the cooperation ofDetective-Inspector Wessex of Scotland Yard, as I do. "

"What's this, what's this?" said Aylesbury. "I have made no applicationto London. "

"Nevertheless, Inspector, it is quite in order, " declared Wessex. "Ihave my instructions here, and I have reported to Market Hiltonalready. You see, the man you have detained is an American citizen. "

"What of that?"

"Well, he seems to have communicated with his Embassy. " Wessex glancedsignificantly at Paul Harley. "And the Embassy communicated with theHome Office. You mustn't regard my arrival as any reflection on yourability, Inspector Aylesbury. I am sure we can work together quiteagreeably. "

"Oh, " muttered the other, in evident bewilderment, "I see. Well, ifthat's the way of it, I suppose we must make the best of things. "

"Good, " cried Wessex, heartily. "Now perhaps you would like to stateyour case against the detained man?"

"A sound idea, Wessex, " said Paul Harley. "But perhaps, InspectorAylesbury, before you begin, you would be good enough to speak to theconstable on duty at the entrance to the Tudor garden. I am anxious totake another look at the spot where the body was found. "

Inspector Aylesbury took out his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly, continuing throughout the operation to glare at Paul Harley, andfinally:

"You are wasting your time, Mr. Harley, " he declared, "as Detective-Inspector Wessex will be the first to admit when I have given him thefacts of my case. Nevertheless, if you want to examine the garden, doso by all means. "

He turned without another word and stamped out of the library acrossthe hall and into the courtyard. 

"I will join you again in a few minutes, Wessex, " said Paul Harley, following. 

"Very good, Mr. Harley, " Wessex answered. "I know you wouldn't have hadme down if the case had been as simple as he seems to think it is. "

I joined Harley, and we walked together up the gravelled path, meetingInspector Aylesbury and the constable returning. 

"Go ahead, Mr. Harley!" cried the Inspector. "If you can find anystronger evidence than the rifle, I shall be glad to take a look atit. "

Harley nodded good-humouredly, and together we descended the steps tothe sunken garden. I was intensely curious respecting the investigationwhich Harley had been so anxious to make here, for I recognized that itwas associated with something which he had seen from the window ofCamber's hut. 

He walked along the moss-grown path to the sun-dial, and stood for amoment looking down at the spot where Menendez had lain. Then he staredup the hill toward the Guest House; and finally, directing hisattention to the yews which lined the sloping bank:

"One, two, three, four, " he counted, checking them with his fingers--"five, six, seven. "

He mounted the bank and began to examine the trunk of one of the trees, whilst I watched him in growing astonishment. 

Presently he turned and looked down at me. 

"Not a trace, Knox, " he murmured; "not a trace. Let us try again. "

He moved along to the yew adjoining that which he had alreadyinspected, but presently shook his head and passed to the next. Then:

"Ah!" he cried. "Come here, Knox!"

I joined him where he was kneeling, staring at what I took to be alarge nail, or bolt, protruding from the bark of the tree. 

"You see!" he exclaimed, "you see!"

I stooped, in order to examine the thing more closely, and as I did so, I realized what it was. It was the bullet which had killed ColonelMenendez!

Harley stood upright, his face slightly flushed and his eyes verybright. 

"We shall not attempt to remove it, Knox, " he said. "The depth ofpenetration may have a tale to tell. The wood of the yew tree is one ofthe toughest British varieties. "

"But, Harley, " I said, blankly, as we descended to the path, "this ismerely another point for the prosecution of Camber. Unless"--I turnedto him in sudden excitement, "the bullet was of different--"

"No, no, " he murmured, "nothing so easy as that, Knox. The bullet wasfired from a Lee-Enfield beyond doubt. "

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. 

"Then I am utterly out of my depth, Harley. It, appears to me that thecase against Camber is finally and fatally complete. Only the motiveremains to be discovered, and I flatter myself that I have alreadydetected this. "

"I am certainly inclined to think, " admitted Harley, "that there is agood deal in your theory. "

"Then, Harley, " I said in bewilderment, "you do believe that Cambercommitted the murder?"

"On the contrary, " he replied, "I am certain that he did not. "

I stood quite still. 

"You are certain?" I began. 

"I told you that the test of my theory, Knox, was to be looked for inthe seventh yew from the northeast corner of the Tudor garden, did Inot?"

"You did. And it is there. A bullet fired from a Lee-Enfield rifle;beyond any possible shadow of doubt the bullet which killed ColonelMenendez. "

"Beyond any possible shadow of doubt, as you say, Knox, the bulletwhich killed Colonel Menendez. "

"Therefore Camber is guilty?"

"On the contrary, therefore Camber is innocent!"

"What!"

"You are persistently overlooking one little point, Knox, " said Harley, mounting the steps on to the gravel path. "I spoke of the seventh yewtree from the northeast corner of the garden. "

"Well?"

"Well, my dear fellow, surely you observed that the bullet was embeddedin the ninth?"

I was still groping for the significance of this point when, re-crossing the hall, we entered the library again, to find InspectorAylesbury posed squarely before the mantelpiece stating his case toWessex. 

"You see, " he was saying, in his most oratorical manner, as we entered, "every little detail fits perfectly into place. For instance, I findthat a woman, called Mrs. Powis, who for the past two years had actedas housekeeper at the Guest House and never taken a holiday, was sentaway recently to her married daughter in London. See what that means?Her room is at the back of the house, and her evidence would have beenfatal. Ah Tsong, of course, is a liar. I made up my mind about that themoment I clapped eyes on him. Mrs. Camber is the only innocent party. She was asleep in the front of the house when the shot was fired, and Ibelieve her when she says that she cannot swear to the matter ofdistance. "

"A very interesting case, Inspector, " said Wessex, glancing at Harley. "I have not examined the body yet, but I understand that it was a cleanwound through the head. "

"The bullet entered at the juncture of the nasal and frontal bones, "explained Harley, rapidly, "and it came out between the base of theoccipital and first cervical. Without going into unpleasant surgicaldetails, the wound was a perfectly _straight_ one. There was noricochet. "

"I understand that a regulation rifle was used?"

"Yes, " said Inspector Aylesbury; "we have it. "

"And at what range did you say, Inspector?"

"Roughly, a hundred yards. "

"Possibly less, " murmured Harley. 

"Hundred yards or less, " said Wessex, musingly; "and the obstructionmet with in the case of a man shot in that way would be--" He lookedtowards Paul Harley. 

"Less than if the bullet had struck the skull higher up, " was thereply. "It passed clean through. "

"Therefore, " continued Wessex, "I am waiting to hear, Inspector, whereyou found the bullet lodged?"

"Eh?" said the Inspector, and he slowly turned his prominent eyes inHarley's direction. "Oh, I see. That's why you wanted to examine theTudor garden, is it?"

"Exactly, " replied Harley. 

The face of Inspector Aylesbury grew very red. 

"I had deferred looking for the bullet, " he explained, "as the case wasalready as clear as daylight. Probably Mr. Harley has discovered it. "

"I have, " said Harley, shortly. 

"Is it the regulation bullet?" asked Wessex. 

"It is. I found it embedded in one of the yew trees. "

"There you are!" exclaimed Aylesbury. "There isn't the ghost of adoubt. "

Wessex looked at Harley in undisguised perplexity. 

"I must say, Mr. Harley, " he admitted, "that I have never met with aclearer case. "

"Neither have I, " agreed Harley, cheerfully. "I am going to askInspector Aylesbury to return here after nightfall. There is a littleexperiment which I should like to make, and which would definitelyestablish my case. "

"_Your_ case?" said Aylesbury. 

"My case, yes. "

"You are not going to tell me that you still persist in believingCamber to be innocent?"

"Not at all. I am merely going to ask you to return at nightfall toassist me in this minor investigation. "

"If you ask my opinion, " said the Inspector, "no further evidence isneeded. "

"I don't agree with you, " replied Harley, quietly. "Whatever your ownideas upon the subject may be, I, personally, have not yet discoveredone single piece of convincing evidence for the prosecution of Camber. "

"What!" exclaimed Aylesbury, and even Detective-Inspector Wessex staredat the speaker incredulously. 

"My dear Inspector Aylesbury, " concluded Harley, "when you havewitnessed the experiment which I propose to make this evening you willrealize, as I have already realized that we are faced by a tremendoustask. "

"What tremendous task?"

"The task of discovering who shot Colonel Menendez. "

CHAPTER XXXI

YSOLA CAMBER'S CONFESSION

Paul Harley, with Wessex and Inspector Aylesbury, presently set out forMarket Hilton, where Colin Camber and Ah Tsong were detained and wherethe body of Colonel Menendez had been conveyed for the purpose of thepost-mortem. I had volunteered to remain at Cray's Folly, my motivebeing not wholly an unselfish one. 

"Refer reporters to me, Mr. Knox, " said Inspector Wessex. "Don't letthem trouble the ladies. And tell them as little as possible, yourself. "

The drone of the engine having died away down the avenue, I presentlyfound myself alone, but as I crossed the hall in the direction of thelibrary, intending to walk out upon the southern lawns, I saw ValBeverley coming toward me from Madame de Stämer's room. 

She remained rather pale, but smiled at me courageously. 

"Have they all gone, Mr. Knox?" she asked. "I have really been hiding. I suppose you knew?"

"I suspected it, " I said, smiling. "Yes, they are all gone. How isMadame de Stämer, now?"

"She is quite calm. Curiously, almost uncannily calm. She is writing. Tell me, please, what does Mr. Harley think of Inspector Aylesbury'spreposterous ideas?"

"He thinks he is a fool, " I replied, hotly, "as I do. "

"But whatever will happen if he persists in dragging me into thishorrible case?"

"He will not drag you into it, " I said, quietly. "He has beensuperseded by a cleverer man, and the case is practically underHarley's direction now. "

"Thank Heaven for that, " she murmured. "I wonder----" She looked at mehesitatingly. 

"Yes?" I prompted. 

"I have been thinking about poor Mrs. Camber all alone in that gloomyhouse, and wondering----"

"Perhaps I know. You are going to visit her?"

Val Beverley nodded, watching me. 

"Can you leave Madame de Stämer with safety?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. Nita can attend to her. "

"And may I accompany you, Miss Beverley? For more reasons than one, I, too, should like to call upon Mrs. Camber. "

"We might try, " she said, hesitatingly. "I really only wanted to bekind. You won't begin to cross-examine her, will you?"

"Certainly not, " I answered; "although there are many things I shouldlike her to tell us. "

"Well, suppose we go, " said the girl, "and let events take their owncourse. "

As a result, I presently found myself, Val Beverley by my side, walkingacross the meadow path. With the unpleasant hush of Cray's Folly leftbehind, the day seemed to grow brighter. I thought that the skylarkshad never sung more sweetly. Yet in this same instant of sheerlyphysical enjoyment I experienced a pang of remorse, remembering thetragic woman we had left behind, and the poor little sorrowful girl wewere going to visit. My emotions were very mingled, then, and I retainno recollection of our conversation up to the time that we came to theGuest House. 

We were admitted by a really charming old lady, who informed us thather name was Mrs. Powis and that she was but an hour returned fromLondon, whither she had been summoned by telegram. 

She showed us into a quaint, small drawing room which owed itsatmosphere quite clearly to Mrs. Camber, for whereas the study wasindescribably untidy, this was a model of neatness without being formalor unhomely. Here, in a few moments, Mrs. Camber joined us, anappealing little figure of wistful, almost elfin, beauty. I wassurprised and delighted to find that an instant bond of sympathy sprangup between the two girls. I diplomatically left them together for awhile, going into Camber's room to smoke my pipe. And when I returned:

"Oh, Mr. Knox, " said Val Beverley, "Mrs. Camber has something to tellyou which she thinks you ought to know. "

"Concerning Colonel Menendez?" I asked, eagerly. 

Mrs. Camber nodded her golden head. 

"Yes, " she replied, but glancing at Val Beverley as if to gatherconfidence. "The truth can never hurt Colin. He has nothing to conceal. May I tell you?"

"I am all anxiety to hear, " I assured her. 

"Would you rather I went, Mrs. Camber?" asked Val Beverley. 

Mrs. Camber reached across and took her hand. 

"Please, no, " she replied. "Stay here with me. I am afraid it is rathera long story. "

"Never mind, " I said. "It will be time well spent if it leads us anynearer to the truth. "

"Yes?" she questioned, watching me anxiously, "you think so? I thinkso, too. "

She became silent, sitting looking straight before her, the pupils ofher blue eyes widely dilated. Then, at first in a queer, far-awayvoice, she began to speak again. 

"I must tell you, " she commenced "that before--my marriage, my namewas Isabella de Valera. "

I started. 

"Ysola was my baby way of saying it, and so I came to be called Ysola. My father was manager of one of Señor Don Juan's estates, in a smallisland near the coast of Cuba. My mother"--she raised her little handseloquently--"was half-caste. Do you know? And she and my father--"

She looked pleadingly at Val Beverley. 

"I understand, " whispered the latter with deep sympathy; "but you don'tthink it makes any difference, do you?"

"No?" said Mrs. Camber with a quaint little gesture. "To you, perhapsnot, but there, where I was born, oh! so much. Well, then, my motherdied when I was very little. Ah Tsong was her servant. There are manyChinese in the West Indies, you see, and I can just remember he carriedme in to see her. Of course I didn't understand. My father quarrelledbitterly with the priests because they would not bury her in holyground. I think he no longer believed afterward. I loved him very much. He was good to me; and I was a queen in that little island. All thenegroes loved me, because of my mother, I think, who was partlydescended from slaves, as they were. But I had not begun to understandhow hard it was all going to be when my father sent me to a convent inCuba. 

"I hated to go, but while I was there I learned all about myself. Iknew that I was outcast. It was"--she raised her hand--"not possibleto stay. I was only fifteen when I came home, but all the same I was awoman. I was no more a child, and happy no longer. After a while, perhaps, when I forgot what I had suffered at the convent, I becameless miserable. My father did all in his power to make me happy, and Iwas glad the work-people loved me. But I was very lonely. Ah Tsongunderstood. "

Her eyes filled with tears. 

"Can you imagine, " she asked, "that when my father was away in distantparts of the island at night, Ah Tsong slept outside my door? Some ofthem say, 'Do not trust the Chinese' I say, except my husband and myfather, I have never known another one to trust but Ah Tsong. Now theyhave taken him away from me. "

Tears glittered on her lashes, but she brushed them aside angrily, andcontinued:

"I was still less than twenty, and looked, they told me, only fourteen, when Señor Menendez came to inspect his estate. I had never seen himbefore. There had been a rising in the island, in the year after I wasborn, and he had only just escaped with his life. He was hated. Peoplecalled him Devil Menendez. Especially, no woman was safe from him, andin the old days, when his power had been great, he had used it forwickedness. 

"My father was afraid when he heard he was coming. He would have sentme away, but before it could be arranged Señor the Colonel arrived. Hehad in his company a French lady. I thought her very beautiful andelegant. It was Madame de Stämer. It is only four years ago, a littlemore, but her hair was dark brown. She was splendidly dressed and sucha wonderful horsewoman. The first time I saw her I felt as they hadmade me feel at the convent. I wanted to hide from her. She was sogrand a lady, and I came from slaves. "

She paused hesitatingly and stared down at her own tiny feet. 

"Pardon me interrupting you, Mrs. Camber, " I said, "but can you tell mein what way these two are related?"

She looked up with her naïve smile. 

"I can tell you, yes. A cousin of Señor Menendez married a sister ofMadame de Stämer. "

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "a very remote kinship. "

"It was in this way they met, in Paris, I think, and"--she raised herhands expressively--"she came with him to the West Indies, although itwas during the great war. I think she loved him more than her soul, andme--me she hated. As Señor Menendez dismounted from his horse in frontof the house he saw me. "

She sighed and ceased speaking again. Then:

"That very night, " she continued, "he began. Do you know? I was tryingto escape from him when Madame de Stämer found us. She called me ashameful name, and my father, who heard it, ordered her out of thehouse. Señor Menendez spoke sharply, and my father struck him. "

She paused once more, biting her lip agitatedly, but presentlyproceeded:

"Do you know what they are like, the Spanish, when their blood is hot?Senor Menendez had a revolver, but my father knocked it from his grasp. Then they fought with their bare hands. I was too frightened even tocry out. It was all a horrible dream. What Madame de Stämer did, I donot know. I could see nothing but two figures twined together on thefloor. At last one of them arose. I saw it was my father, and Iremember no more. "

She was almost overcome by her tragic recollections, but presently, with a wonderful courage, which, together with her daintiness of form, spoke eloquently of good blood on one side at any rate, continued tospeak:

"My father found he must go to Cuba to make arrangements for thefuture. Of course, our life there was finished. Ah Tsong stayed withme. You have heard how it used to be in those islands in the old days, but now you think it is so different? I used to think it was different, too. On the first night my father was away, Ah Tsong, who had gone out, was so long returning I became afraid. Then a strange negro came withnews that he had been taken ill with cholera, and was lying at a placenot far from the house. I forgot my fears and hurried off with thisman. Ah!"

She laughed wildly. 

"I did not know I should never return, and I did not know I shouldnever see my father again. To you this must seem all wild and strange, because there is a law in England. There is a law in Cuba, too, but insome of those little islands the only law is the law of the strongest. "

She raised her hands to her face and there was silence for a while. 

"Of course it was a trap, " she presently continued. "I was taken to anisland called El Manas which belonged to Senor Menendez, and where hehad a house. This he could do, but"--she threw back her head proudly--"my spirit he could not break. Lots and lots of money would be mine, and estates of my own; but one thing about him I must tell: he nevershowed me violence. For one, two, three weeks I stayed a prisoner inhis house. All the servants were faithful to him and I could not find afriend among them. Although quite innocent, I was ruined. Do you know?"

She raised her eyes pathetically to Val Beverley. 

"I thought my heart was broken, for something told me my father wasdead. This was true. "

"What!" I exclaimed. "You don't mean--"

"I don't know, I don't know, " she answered, brokenly. "He died on hisway to Havana. They said it was an accident. Well--at last, SeñorMenendez offered me marriage. I thought if I agreed it would give me myfreedom, and I could run away and find Ah Tsong. "

She paused, and a flush coloured her delicate face and faded again, leaving it very pale. 

"We were married in the house, by a Spanish priest. Oh"--she raised herhands pathetically--"do you know what a woman is like? My spirit wasnot broken still, but crushed. I had now nothing but kindness andgifts. I might never have known, but Senor Menendez, who thought"--shesmiled sadly--"I was beautiful, took me to Cuba, where he had a greathouse. Please remember, please, " she pleaded, "before you judge of me, that I was so young and had never known love, except the love of myfather. I did not even dream, then, his death was not an accident. 

"I was proud of my jewels and fine dresses. But I began to notice thatJuan did not present any of his friends to me. We went about, but tostrange places, never to visit people of his own kind, and none came tovisit us. Then one night I heard someone on the balcony of my room. Iwas so frightened I could not cry out. It was good I was like that, forthe curtain was pulled open and Ah Tsong came in. "

She clutched convulsively at the arms of her chair. 

"He told me!" she said in a very low voice. 

Then, looking up pitifully:

"Do you know?" she asked in her quaint way. "It was a mock marriage. Hehad done it and thought no shame, because it was so with my mother. Oh!"

Her beautiful eyes flashed, and for the first time since I had metYsola Camber I saw the real Spanish spirit of the woman leap to life. 

"He did not know me. Perhaps I did not know myself. That night, with nomoney, without a ring, a piece of lace, a peseta, anything that hadbelonged to him, I went with Ah Tsong. We made our way to a half-sisterof my father's who lived in Puerto Principe, and at first--she wouldnot have me. I was talked about, she said, in all the islands. She toldme of my poor father. She told me I had dragged the name of de Valerain the dirt. At last I made her understand--that what everyone elsehad known, I had never even dreamed of. "

She looked up wistfully, as if thinking that we might doubt her. 

"Do you know?" she whispered. 

"I know--oh! I know!" said Val Beverley. I loved her for the sympathyin her voice and in her eyes. "It is very, very brave of you to tell usthis, Mrs. Camber. "

"Yes? Do you think so?" asked the girl, simply. "What does it matter ifit can help Colin?

"This aunt of mine, " she presently continued, "was a poor woman, and itwas while I was hiding in her house--because spies of Senor Menendezwere searching for me--that I met--my husband. He was studying in Cubathe strange things he writes about, you see. And before I knew what hadhappened--I found I loved him more than all else in the world. It is sowonderful, that feeling, " she said, looking across at Val Beverley. "Doyou know?"

The girl flushed deeply, and lowered her eyes, but made no reply. 

"Because you are a woman, too, you will perhaps understand, " sheresumed. "I did not tell him. I did not dare to tell him at first. Iwas so madly happy I had no courage to speak. But when"--her voice sanklower and lower--"he asked me to marry him, I told him. Nothing hecould ever do would change my love for him now, because he forgave meand made me his wife. "

I feared that at last she was going to break down, for her voice becamevery tremulous and tears leapt again into her eyes. She conquered heremotion, however, and went on:

"We crossed over to the States, and Colin's family who had heard of hismarriage--some friend of Señor Menendez had told them--would not knowus. It meant that Colin, who would have been a rich man, was very poor. It made no difference. He was splendid. And I was so happy it was alllike a dream. He made me forget I was to blame for his troubles. Thenwe were in Washington--and I saw Señor Menendez in the hotel!

"Oh, my heart stopped beating. For me it seemed like the end ofeverything. I knew, I knew, he was following me. But he had not seenme, and without telling Colin the reason, I made him leave Washington, He was glad to go. Wherever we went, in America, they seemed to findout about my mother. I got to hate them, hate them all. We came toEngland, and Colin heard about this house, and we took it. 

"At last we were really happy. No one knew us. Because we were strange, and because of Ah Tsong, they looked at us very funny and kept away, but we did not care. Then Sir James Appleton sold Cray's Folly. "

She looked up quickly. 

"How can I tell you? It must have been by Ah Tsong that he traced me toSurrey. Some spy had told him there was a Chinaman living here. Oh, Idon't know how he found out, but when I heard who was coming to Cray'sFolly I thought I should die. 

"Something I must tell you now. When I had told my story to Colin, onething I had not told him, because I was afraid what he might do. I hadnot told him the name of the man who had caused me to suffer so much. On the day I first saw Señor Menendez walking in the garden of Cray'sFolly I knew I must tell my husband what he had so often asked me totell him--the name of the man. I told him--and at first I thought hewould go mad. He began to drink--do you know? It is a failing in hisfamily. But because I knew--because I knew--I forgave him, and hoped, always hoped, that he would stop. He promised to do so. He had given upgoing out each day to drink, and was working again like he used towork--too hard, too hard, but it was better than the other way. "

She stopped speaking, and suddenly, before I could divine herintention, dropped upon her knees, and raised her clasped hands to me. 

"He did not, he did not kill him!" she cried, passionately. "He didnot! O God! I who love him tell you he did not! You think he did. Youdo--you do! I can see it in your eyes!"

"Believe me, Mrs. Camber, " I answered, deeply moved, "I don't doubtyour word for a moment. "

She continued to look at me for a while, and then turned to ValBeverley. 

"_You_ don't think he did, " she sobbed, "do you?"

She looked such a child, such a pretty, helpless child, as she kneltthere on the carpet, that I felt a lump rising in my throat. 

Val Beverley dropped down impulsively beside her and put her armsaround the slender shoulders. 

"Of course I don't, " she exclaimed, indignantly. "Of course I don't. It's quite unthinkable. "

"I know it is, " moaned the other, raising her tearful face. "I love himand know his great soul. But what do these others know, and they willnever believe _me_. "

"Have courage, " I said. "It has never failed you yet. Mr. Paul Harleyhas promised to clear him by to-night. "

"He has promised?" she whispered, still kneeling and clutching ValBeverley tightly. She looked up at me with hope reborn in her beautifuleyes. "He has promised? Oh, I thank him. May God bless him. I know hewill succeed. "

I turned aside, and walked out across the hall and into the emptystudy. 

CHAPTER XXXII

PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENT

I recognize that whosoever may have taken the trouble to follow mychronicle thus far will be little disposed to suffer any intrusion ofmy personal affairs at such a point. Therefore I shall pass lightlyover the walk back to Cray's Folly, during which I contrived to learnmuch about Val Beverley's personal history but little to advance theinvestigation which I was there to assist. 

As I had surmised, Miss Beverley had been amply provided for by herfather, and was bound to Madame de Stämer by no other ties than thoseof friendship and esteem. Very reluctantly I released her, on ourreturning to the house; for she, perforce, hurried off to Madame'sroom, leaving me looking after her in a state of delightfulbewilderment, the significance of which I could not disguise frommyself. The absurd suspicions of Inspector Aylesbury were forgotten; sowas the shadow upon the blind of Colonel Menendez's study. I only knewthat love had come to me, an unbidden guest, to stay for ever. 

Manoel informed me that a number of pressmen, not to be denied, hadtaken photographs of the Tudor garden and of the spot where ColonelMenendez had been found, but Pedro, following my instructions, hadreferred them all to Market Hilton. 

I was standing in the doorway talking to the man when I heard the droneof Harley's motor in the avenue, and a moment later he and Wessexstepped out in front of the porch and joined me. I thought that Wessexlooked stern and rather confused, but Harley was quite his old self, his keen eyes gleaming humorously, and an expression of geniality uponhis tanned features. 

"Hullo, Knox!" he cried, "any developments?"

"Yes, " I said. "Suppose we go up to your room and talk. "

"Good enough. "

Inspector Wessex nodded without speaking, and the three of us mountedthe staircase and entered Paul Harley's room. Harley seated himselfupon the bed and began to load his pipe, whilst Wessex, who seemed veryrestless, stood staring out of the window. I sat down in the armchair, and:

"I have had an interesting interview with Mrs. Camber, " I said. 

"What?" exclaimed Harley. "Good. Tell us all about it. "

Wessex turned, hands clasped behind him, and listened in silence to anaccount which I gave of my visit to the Guest House. When I hadfinished:

"It seems to me, " said the Inspector, slowly, "that the only doubtfulpoint in the case against Camber is cleared up; namely, his motive. "

"It certainly looks like it, " agreed Harley. "But how strangely Mrs. Camber's story differs from that of Menendez although there are pointsof contact. I regret, however, that you were unable to settle the mostimportant matter of all. "

"You mean whether or not she had visited Cray's Folly?"

"Exactly. "

"Then you still consider my theory to be correct?" I asked eagerly. 

"Up to a point it has been proved to be, " he returned. "I mustcongratulate you upon a piece of really brilliant reasoning, Knox. Butrespecting the most crucial moment of all, we are still withoutinformation, unfortunately. However, whilst the presence or otherwise, of Mrs. Camber in Cray's Folly on the night preceding the tragedy mayprove to bear intimately upon the case, an experiment which I proposeto make presently will give the matter an entirely differentsignificance. "

"Hm, " said Wessex, doubtfully, "I am looking forward to this experimentof yours, Mr. Harley, with great interest. To be perfectly honest, Ihave no more idea than the man in the moon how you hope to clearCamber. "

"No, " replied Harley, musingly, "the weight of evidence against him iscrushing. But you are a man of great experience, Wessex, in criminalinvestigations. Tell me honestly, have you ever known a murder case inwhich there was such conclusive material for the prosecution?"

"Never, " replied the Inspector, promptly. "In this respect, as inothers, the case is unique. "

"You have seen Camber, " continued Harley, "and have been enabled toform some sort of judgment respecting his character. You will admitthat he is a clever man, brilliantly clever. Keep this fact in mind. Remember his studies, and he does not deny that they have includedVoodoo. Remember his enquiries into the significance of Bat Wing. Remember, as we now learn definitely from Mrs. Camber's evidence, thathe was in Cuba at the same time as the late Colonel Menendez, and once, at least, actually in the same hotel in the United States. Consider therifle found under the floor of the hut; and, having weighed all thesepoints judicially, Wessex, tell me frankly, if in the whole course ofyour experience, you have ever met with a more perfect frame-up?"

"What!" shouted Wessex, in sudden excitement. "What!"

"I said a frame-up, " repeated Harley, quietly. "An American term, butone which will be familiar to you. "

"Good God!" muttered the detective, "you have turned all my ideasupside down. "

"What may be termed the _physical_ evidence, " continued Harley, "is complete, I admit: too complete. There lies the weak spot. But whatI will call the psychological evidence points in a totally differentdirection. A man clever enough to have planned this crime, and Camberundoubtedly is such a man, could not--it is humanly impossible--havebeen fool enough, deliberately to lay such a train of damning facts. It's a frame-up, Wessex! I had begun to suspect this even before I metCamber. Having met him, I knew that I was right. Then came aninspiration. I saw where there must be a flaw in the plan. It wasgeographically impossible that this could be otherwise. "

"Geographically impossible?" I said, in a hushed voice, for Harley hadtruly astounded me. 

"Geographical is the term, Knox. I admit that the discovery of therifle beneath the floor of the hut appalled me. "

"I could see that it did. "

"It was the crowning piece of evidence, Knox, evidence of such fiendishcleverness on the part of those who had plotted Menendez's death that Ibegan to wonder whether after all it would be possible to defeat them. I realized that Camber's life hung upon a hair. For the production ofthat rifle before a jury of twelve moderately stupid men and true couldnot fail to carry enormous weight. Whereas the delicate point uponwhich my counter case rested might be more difficult to demonstrate incourt. To-night, however, we shall put it to the test, and there aremeans, no doubt, which will occur to me later, of making itssignificance evident to one not acquainted with the locality. The pressphotographs, which I understand have been taken, may possibly help usin this. "

Bewildered by my friend's revolutionary ideas, which explained thehitherto mysterious nature of his enquiries, I scarcely knew what tosay; but:

"If it's a frame-up, Mr. Harley, " said Wessex, "and the more I thinkabout it the more it has that look to me, practically speaking, we havenot yet started on the search for the murderer. "

"We have not, " replied Harley, grimly. "But I have a dawning idea of amethod by which we shall be enabled to narrow down this enquiry. "

It must be unnecessary for me to speak of the state of suppressedexcitement in which we passed the remainder of that afternoon andevening. Dr. Rolleston called again to see Madame de Stämer, andreported that she was quite calm. In fact, he almost echoed ValBeverley's words spoken earlier in the day. 

"She is unnaturally calm, Mr. Knox, " he said in confidence. "Iunderstand that the dead man was a cousin, but I almost suspect thatshe was madly in love with him. "

I nodded shortly, admiring his acute intelligence. 

"I think you are right, doctor, " I replied, "and if it is so, heramazing fortitude is all the more admirable. "

"Admirable?" he echoed. "As I said before, she has the courage of tenmen. "

A formal dinner was out of the question, of course; indeed, no oneattempted to dress. Val Beverley excused herself, saying that she woulddine in Madame's room, and Harley, Wessex, and I, partook of wine andsandwiches in the library. 

Inspector Aylesbury arrived about eight o'clock in a mood of repressedirritation. Pedro showed him in to where the three of us were seated, and:

"Good evening, gentlemen, " said he, "here I am, as arranged, but as Iam up to my eyes in work on the case, I will ask you, Mr. Harley, tocarry out this experiment of yours as quickly as possible. "

"No time shall be lost, " replied my friend, quietly. "May I request youto accompany Detective-Inspector Wessex and Mr. Knox to the Guest Houseby the high road? Do not needlessly alarm Mrs. Camber. Indeed, I thinkyou might confine your attention to Mrs. Powis. Merely requestpermission to walk down the garden to the hut, and be good enough towait there until I join you, which will be in a few minutes after yourarrival. "

Inspector Aylesbury uttered an inarticulate, grunting sound, but I, whoknew Harley so well, could see that he felt himself to be upon the eveof a signal triumph. What he proposed to do, I had no idea, save thatit was designed to clear Colin Camber. I prayed that it might alsoclear his pathetic girl-wife; and in a sort of gloomy silence I set outwith Wessex and Aylesbury, down the drive, past the lodge, which seemedto be deserted to-night, and along the tree-lined high road, cool andsweet in the dusk of evening. 

Aylesbury was very morose, and Wessex, who had lighted his pipe, didnot seem to be in a talkative mood either. He had the utmost faith inPaul Harley, but it was evident enough that he was oppressed by theweight of evidence against Camber. I divined the fact that he wasturning over in his mind the idea of the frame-up, and endeavouring tore-adjust the established facts in accordance with this new point ofview. 

We were admitted to the Guest House by Mrs. Powis, a cheery old soul;one of those born optimists whose special task in life seems to be thatof a friend in need. 

As she opened the door, she smiled, shook her head, and raised herfinger to her lips. 

"Be as quiet as you can, sir, " she said. "I have got her to sleep. "

She spoke of Mrs. Camber as one refers to a child, and, quiteunderstanding her anxiety:

"There will be no occasion to disturb her, Mrs. Powis, " I replied. "Wemerely wish to walk down to the bottom of the garden to make a fewenquiries. "

"Yes, gentlemen, " she whispered, quietly closing the door as we allentered the hall. 

She led us through the rear portion of the house, and past the quartersof Ah Tsong into that neglected garden which I remembered so well. 

"There you are, sir, and may Heaven help you to find the truth. "

"Rest assured that the truth will be found, Mrs. Powis, " I answered. 

Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat, but Wessex, puffing at hispipe, made no remark whatever until we were all come to the hutoverhanging the little ravine. 

"This is where I found the rifle, Detective-Inspector, " explainedAylesbury. 

Wessex nodded absently. 

It was another perfect night, with only a faint tracery of cloud to beseen like lingering smoke over on the western horizon. Everythingseemed very still, so that although we were several miles from therailway line, when presently a train sped on its way one might havesupposed, from the apparent nearness of the sound, that the track wasno farther off than the grounds of Cray's Folly. 

Toward those grounds, automatically, our glances were drawn; and westood there staring down at the ghostly map of the gardens, and allwondering, no doubt, what Harley was doing and when he would be joiningus. 

Very faintly I could hear the water of the little stream bubblingbeneath us. Then, just as this awkward silence was becomingintolerable, there came a scraping and scratching from the shadows ofthe gully, and:

"Give me a hand, Knox!" cried the voice of Harley from below. "I wantto avoid the barbed wire if possible. "

He had come across country, and as I scrambled down the slope to meethim I could not help wondering with what object he had sent us ahead bythe high road. Presently, when he came clambering up into the garden, this in a measure was explained, for:

"You are all wondering, " he began, rapidly, "what I am up to, no doubt. Let me endeavour to make it clear. In order that my test should beconclusive, and in no way influenced by pre-knowledge of certainarrangements which I had made, I sent you on ahead of me. Not wishingto waste time, I followed by the shorter route. And now, gentlemen, let us begin. "

"Good, " muttered Inspector Aylesbury. 

"But first of all, " continued Harley, "I wish each one of you in turnto look out of the window of the hut, and down into the Tudor garden ofCray's Folly. Will you begin, Wessex?"

Wessex, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and staring hard at thespeaker, nodded, entered the hut, and kneeling on the wooden seat, looked out of the window. 

"Open the panes, " said Harley, "so that you have a perfectly clearview. "

Wessex slid the panes open and stared intently down into the valley. 

"Do you see anything unusual in the garden?"

"Nothing, " he reported. 

"And now, Inspector Aylesbury. "

Inspector Aylesbury stamped noisily across the little hut, and peeredout, briefly. 

"I can see the garden, " he said. 

"Can you see the sun-dial?"

"Quite clearly. "

"Good. And now you, Knox. "

I followed, filled with astonishment. 

"Do you see the sun-dial?" asked Harley, again. 

"Quite clearly. "

"And beyond it?"

"Yes, I can see beyond it. I can even see its shadow lying like a blackband on the path. "

"And you can see the yew trees?"

"Of course. "

"But nothing else? Nothing unusual?"

"Nothing. "

"Very well, " said Harley, tersely. "And now, gentlemen, we take to therough ground, proceeding due east. Will you be good enough to follow?"

Walking around the hut he found an opening in the hedge, and scrambleddown into the place where rank grass grew and through which he and I ona previous occasion had made our way to the high road. To-night, however, he did not turn toward the high road, but proceeded along thecrest of the hill. 

I followed him, excited by the novelty of the proceedings. Wessex, verysilent, came behind me, and Inspector Aylesbury, swearing under hisbreath, waded through the long grass at the rear. 

"Will you all turn your attention to the garden again, please?" criedHarley. 

We all paused, looking to the right. 

"Anything unusual?"

We were agreed that there was not. 

"Very well, " said my friend. "You will kindly note that from this pointonward the formation of the ground prevents our obtaining any otherview of Cray's Folly or its gardens until we reach the path to thevalley, or turn on to the high road. From a point on the latter thetower may be seen but that is all. The first part of my experiment isconcluded, gentlemen. We will now return. "

Giving us no opportunity for comment, he plunged on in the direction ofthe stream, and at a point which I regarded as unnecessarily difficult, crossed it, to the great discomfiture of the heavy Inspector Aylesbury. A few minutes later we found ourselves once more in the grounds ofCray's Folly. 

Harley, evidently with a definite objective in view, led the way up theterraces, through the rhododendrons, and round the base of the tower. He crossed to the sunken garden, and at the top of the steps paused. 

"Be good enough to regard the sun-dial from this point, " he directed. 

Even as he spoke, I caught my breath, and I heard Aylesbury utter asort of gasping sound. 

Beyond the sun-dial and slightly to the left of it, viewed from wherewe stood, a faint, elfin light flickered, at a point apparently somefour or five feet above the ground!

"What's this?" muttered Wessex. 

"Follow again, gentlemen, " said Harley quietly. 

He led the way down to the garden and along the path to the sun-dial. This he passed, pausing immediately in front of the yew tree in which Iknew the bullet to be embedded. 

He did not speak, but, extending his finger, pointed. 

A piece of candle, some four inches long, was attached by means of anail to the bark of the tree, so that its flame burned immediately infront of the bullet embedded there!

For perhaps ten seconds no one spoke; indeed I think no one moved. Then:

"Good God!" murmured Wessex. "You have done some clever things to myknowledge, Mr. Harley, but this crowns them all. "

"Clever things!" said Inspector Aylesbury. "I think it's a lot ofdamned tomfoolery. "

"Do you, Inspector?" asked the Scotland Yard man, quietly. "I don't. Ithink it has saved the life of an innocent man. "

"What's that? What's that?" cried Aylesbury. 

"This candle was burning here on the yew tree, " explained Harley, "atthe time that you looked out of the window of the hut. You could notsee it. You could not see it from the crest adjoining the Guest House--the only other spot in the neighbourhood from which this garden isvisible. Now, since the course of a bullet is more or less straight, and since the nature of the murdered man's wound proves that it was notdeflected in any way, I submit that the one embedded in the yew treebefore you could not possibly have been fired from the Guest House! Thesecond part of my experiment, gentlemen, will be designed to prove fromwhence it _was_ fired. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

PAUL HARLEY'S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED

Up to the very moment that Paul Harley, who had withdrawn, rejoined usin the garden, Inspector Aylesbury had not grasped the significance ofthat candle burning upon the yew tree. He continued to stare at it asif hypnotized, and when my friend re-appeared, carrying a long ashstaff and a sheet of cardboard, I could have laughed to witness theexpression upon the Inspector's face, had I not been too deeplyimpressed with that which underlay this strange business. 

Wessex, on the other hand, was watching my friend eagerly, as anearnest student in the class-room might watch a demonstration by somecelebrated lecturer. 

"You will notice, " said Paul Harley, "that I have had a number ofboards laid down upon the ground yonder, near the sun-dial. They covera spot where the turf has worn very thin. Now, this garden, because ofits sunken position, is naturally damp. Perhaps, Wessex, you would takeup these planks for me. "

Inspector Wessex obeyed, and Harley, laying the ash stick and cardboardupon the ground, directed the ray of an electric torch upon the spotuncovered. 

"The footprints of Colonel Menendez!" he explained. "Here he turnedfrom the tiled path. He advanced three paces in the direction of thesun-dial, you observe, then stood still, facing we may suppose, sincethis is the indication of the prints, in a southerly direction. "

"Straight toward the Guest House, " muttered Inspector Aylesbury. 

"Roughly, " corrected Harley. "He was fronting in that direction, certainly, but his head may have been turned either to the right or tothe left. You observe from the great depth of the toe-marks that onthis spot he actually fell. Then, here"--he moved the light--"is theimpression of his knee, and here again--"

He shone the white ray upon a discoloured patch of grass, and thenreturned the lamp to his pocket. 

"I am going to make a hole in the turf, " he continued, "directlybetween these two footprints, which seem to indicate that the Colonelwas standing in the military position of attention at the moment thathe met his death. "

With the end of the ash stick, which was pointed, he proceeded to dothis. 

"Colonel Menendez, " he went on, "stood rather over six feet in hisshoes. The stick which now stands upright in the turf measures sixfeet, from the chalk mark up to which I have buried it to the slotwhich I have cut in the top. Into this slot I now wedge my sheet ofcardboard. "

As he placed the sheet of cardboard in the slot which he had indicated, I saw that a round hole was cut in it some six inches in diameter. Wewatched these proceedings in silence, then:

"If you will allow me to adjust the candle, gentlemen, " said Harley, "which has burned a little too low for my purpose, I shall proceed tothe second part of this experiment. "

He walked up to the yew tree, and by means of bending the nail upwardhe raised the flame of the candle level with the base of the embeddedbullet. 

"By heavens!" cried Wessex, suddenly divining the object of theseproceedings, "Mr. Harley, this is genius!"

"Thank you, Wessex, " Harley replied, quietly, but nevertheless he wasunable to hide his gratification. "You see my point?"

"Certainly. "

"In ten minutes we shall know the truth. "

"Oh, I see, " muttered Inspector Aylesbury; "we shall know the truth, eh? If you ask me the truth, it's this, that we are a set of lunatics. "

"My dear Inspector Aylesbury, " said Harley, good humouredly, "surelyyou have grasped the lesson of experiment number one?"

"Well, " admitted the other, "it's funny, certainly. I mean, it wants alot of explaining, but I can't say I'm convinced. "

"That's a pity, " murmured Wessex, "because I am. "

"You see, Inspector, " Harley continued, patiently, "the body of ColonelMenendez as it lay formed a straight line between the sun-dial and thehut in the garden of the Guest House. That is to say: a line drawn fromthe window of the hut to the sun-dial must have passed through thebody. Very well. Such an imaginary line, if continued _beyond_ thesun-dial, would have terminated near the base of the _seventh yew_tree. Accordingly, I naturally looked for the _bullet_ there. Itwas not there. But I found it, as you know, in the ninth tree. Therefore, the shot could not possibly have been fired from the GuestHouse, because the spot in the ninth yew where the bullet had lodged isnot visible from the Guest House. "

Inspector Aylesbury removed his cap and scratched his head vigorously. 

"In order that we may avoid waste of valuable time, " said Harley, finally, "let us take a hasty observation from here. As a matter offact, I have done so already, as nearly as was possible, withoutemploying this rough apparatus. "

He knelt down beside the yew tree, lowering his head so that thecandlelight shone upon the brown, eager face, and looked upward, overthe top of the sun-dial and through the hole in the cardboard. 

"Yes, " he muttered, a note of rising excitement in his voice. "As Ithought, as I thought. Come, gentlemen, let us hurry. "

He walked rapidly out of the garden, and up the steps, whilst wefollowed dumb with wonder--or such at any rate was the cause of my ownsilence. 

In the hall Pedro was standing, a bunch of keys in his hand, andevidently expecting Harley. 

"Will you take us by the shortest way to the tower stairs?" my frienddirected. 

"Yes, sir. "

Doubting, wondering, scarcely knowing whether to be fearful orjubilant, I followed, along a carpeted corridor, and thence, a heavy, oaken door being unlocked, across a dusty and deserted apartmentapparently intended for a drawing room. From this, through a seconddoorway we were led into a small, square, unfurnished room, which Iknew must be situated in the base of the tower. Yet a third door wasunlocked, and:

"Here is the stair, sir, " said Pedro. 

In Indian file we mounted to the first floor, to find ourselves in asecond, identical room, also stripped of furniture and decorations. Harley barely glanced out of the northern window, shook his head, and:

"Next floor, Pedro, " he directed. 

Up we went, our footsteps arousing a cloud of dust from the uncarpetedstairs, and the sound of our movements echoing in hollow fashion aroundthe deserted rooms. 

Gaining the next floor, Harley, unable any longer to conceal hisexcitement, ran to the north window, looked out, and:

"Gentlemen, " he said, "my experiment is complete!"

He turned, his back to the window, and faced us in the dusk of theroom. 

"Assuming the ash stick to represent the upright body of ColonelMenendez, " he continued, "and the sheet of cardboard to represent hishead, the hole which I have cut in it corresponds fairly nearly to theposition of his forehead. Further assuming the bullet to haveillustrated Euclid's definition of a straight line, such a line, _followed back_ from the yew tree to the spot where the riflerested, would pass through the hole in the cardboard! In other words, there is only one place from which it is possible to see the flame ofthe candle _through the hole in the cardboard_: the place wherethe rifle rested! Stand here in the left-hand angle of the window andstoop down! Will you come first, Knox?"

I stepped across the room, bent down, and stared out of the window, across the Tudor garden. Plainly I could see the sun-dial with the ashstick planted before it. I could see the piece of cardboard whichsurmounted it--and, through the hole cut in the cardboard, I could seethe feeble flame of the candle nailed to the ninth yew tree!

I stood upright, knowing that I had grown pale, and conscious of amoist sensation upon my forehead. 

"Merciful God!" I said in a hollow voice. "It was from _thiswindow_ that the shot was fired which killed him!"

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE CREEPING SICKNESS

From the ensuing consultation in the library we did not rise untilclose upon midnight. To the turbid intelligence of Inspector Aylesburythe fact by this time had penetrated that Colin Camber was innocent, that he was the victim of a frame-up, and that Colonel Juan Menendezhad been shot from a window of his own house. 

By a process of lucid reasoning which must have convinced a juniorschoolboy, Paul Harley, there in the big library, with its garishbookcases and its Moorish ornaments, had eliminated every member of thehousehold from the list of suspects. His concluding words, I remember, were as follows:

"Of the known occupants of Cray's Folly on the night of the tragedy wenow find ourselves reduced to four, any one of whom, from the point ofview of an impartial critic uninfluenced by personal character, question, or motive, or any consideration other than that of physicalpossibility, might have shot Colonel Menendez. They are, firstly:Myself. 

"In order to believe me guilty, it would be necessary to discount theevidence of Knox, who saw me on the gravel path below at the time thatthe shot was fired from the tower window. 

"Secondly: Knox; whose guilt, equally, could only be assumed by meansof eliminating _my_ evidence, since I saw him at the window of myroom at the time that the shot was fired. 

"Thirdly: Madame de Stämer. Regarding this suspect, in the first placeshe could not have gained access to the tower room without assistance, and in the second place she was so passionately devoted to the lateColonel Menendez that Dr. Rolleston is of opinion that her reason mayremain permanently impaired by the shock of his death. Fourthly andlastly: Miss Val Beverley. "

Over my own feelings, as he had uttered the girl's name, I must pass insilence. 

"Miss Val Beverley is the only one of the four suspects who is not in aposition to establish a sound alibi so far as I can see at the moment;but in this case entire absence of motive renders the suspicion absurd. Having dealt with the _known_ occupants, I shall not touch uponthe possibility that some stranger had gained access to the house. Thisopens up a province of speculation which we must explore at greaterleisure, for it would be profitless to attempt such an explorationnow. "

Thus the gathering had broken up, Inspector Aylesbury returning toMarket Hilton to make his report and to release Colin Camber and AhTsong, and Wessex to seek his quarters at the Lavender Arms. 

I remember that having seen them off, Harley and I stood in the hall, staring at one another in a very odd way, and so we stood when ValBeverley came quietly from Madame de Stämer's room and spoke to us. 

"Pedro has told me what you have done, Mr. Harley, " she said in a lowvoice. "Oh, thank God you have cleared him. But what, in Heaven's name, does your new discovery mean?"

"You may well ask, " Harley answered, grimly. "If my first task was ahard one, that which remains before me looks more nearly hopeless thananything I have ever been called upon to attempt. "

"It is horrible, it is horrible, " said the girl, shudderingly. "Oh, Mr. Knox, " she turned to me, "I have felt all along that there was somestranger in the house----"

"You have told me so. "

"Conundrums! Conundrums!" muttered Harley, irritably. "Where am I tobegin, upon what am I to erect any feasible theory?" He turned abruptlyto Val Beverley. "Does Madame de Stämer know?"

"Yes, " she answered, nodding her head; "and hearing the others depart, she asked me to tell you that sleep is impossible until you havepersonally given her the details of your discovery. "

"She wishes to see me?" asked Harley, eagerly. 

"She insists upon seeing you, " replied the girl, "and also requests Mr. Knox to visit her. " She paused, biting her lip. "Madame's manner isvery, very odd. Dr. Rolleston cannot understand her at all. I expect hehas told you? She has been sitting there for hours and hours, writing. "

"Writing?" exclaimed Harley. "Letters?"

"I don't know what she has been writing, " confessed Val Beverley. "Shedeclines to tell me, or to show me what she has written. But there isquite a little stack of manuscript upon the table beside her bed. Won'tyou come in?"

I could see that she was more troubled than she cared to confess, and Iwondered if Dr. Rolleston's unpleasant suspicions might have solidfoundation, and if the loss of her cousin had affected Madame deStämer's brain. 

Presently, then, ushered by Val Beverley, I found myself once more inthe violet and silver room in which on that great bed of state Madamereclined amid silken pillows. Her art never deserted her, not even inmoments of ultimate stress, and that she had prepared herself for thisinterview was evident enough. 

I had thought previously that one night of horror had added five yearsto her apparent age. I thought now that she looked radiantly beautiful. That expression in her eyes, which I knew I must forevermore associatewith the memory of the dying tigress, had faded entirely. They remainedstill, as of old, but to-night they were velvety soft. The lips wererelaxed in a smile of tenderness. I observed, with surprise, that shewore much jewelery, and upon her white bosom gleamed the famous rope ofpearls which I knew her to treasure above almost anything in herpossession. 

Again the fear touched me coldly that much sorrow had made her mad. Butat her very first word of greeting I was immediately reassured. 

"Ah, my friend, " she said, as I entered, a caressing note in her deep, vibrant voice, "you have great news, they tell me? Mr. Harley, I wasafraid that you had deserted me, sir. If you had done so I should havebeen very angry with you. Set the two armchairs here on my right, Val, dear, and sit close beside me. "

Then, as we seated ourselves:

"You are not smoking, my friends, " she continued, "and I know that youare both so fond of a smoke. "

Paul Harley excused himself but I accepted a cigarette which ValBeverley offered me from a silver box on the table, and presently:

"I am here, like a prisoner of the Bastille, " declared Madame, shrugging her shoulders, "where only echoes reach me. Now, Mr. Harley, tell me of this wonderful discovery of yours. "

Harley inclined his head gravely, and in that succinct fashion which hehad at command acquainted Madame with the result of his twoexperiments. As he completed the account:

"Ah, " she sighed, and lay back upon her pillows, "so to-night he isagain a free man, the poor Colin Camber. And his wife is happy oncemore?"

"Thank God, " I murmured. "Her sorrow was pathetic. "

"Only the pure in heart can thank God, " said Madame, strangely, "but I, too, am glad. I have written, here"--she pointed to a little heap ofviolet note-paper upon a table placed at the opposite side of the bed--"how glad I am. "

Harley and I stared vaguely across at the table. I saw Val Beverleyglancing uneasily in the same direction. Save for the writing materialsand little heap of manuscript, it held only a cup and saucer, a fewsandwiches, and a medicine bottle containing the prescription which Dr. Rolleston had made up for the invalid. 

"I am curious to know what you have written, Madame, " declared Harley. 

"Yes, you are curious?" she said. "Very well, then, I will tell you, and afterward you may read if you wish. " She turned to me. "You, myfriend, " she whispered, and reaching over she laid her jewelled handupon my arm, "you have spoken with Ysola de Valera this afternoon, theytell me?"

"With Mrs. Camber?" I asked, startled. "Yes, that is true. "

"Ah, Mrs. Camber, " murmured Madame. "I knew her as Ysola de Valera. Sheis beautiful, in her golden doll way. You think so?" Then, ere I hadtime to reply: "She told you, I suppose, eh?"

"She told me, " I replied with a certain embarrassment, "that she hadmet you some years ago in Cuba. "

"Ah, yes, although _I_ told the fat Inspector it was not so. Howwe lie, we women! And of course she told you in what relation I stoodto Juan Menendez?"

"She did not, Madame de Stämer. "

"No-no? Well, it was nice of her. No matter. _I_ will tell you. Iwas his mistress. "

She spoke without bravado, but quite without shame, seeming to glory inthe statement. 

"I met him in Paris, " she continued, half closing her eyes. "I wasstaying at the house of my sister, and my sister, you understand, wasmarried to Juan's cousin. That is how we met. I was married. Yes, it istrue. But in France our parents find our husbands and our lovers findour hearts. Yet sometimes these marriages are happy. To me this goodthing had not happened, and in the moment when Juan's hand touched minea living fire entered into my heart and it has been burning ever since;burning-burning, always till I die. 

"Very well, I am a shameless woman, yes. But I have lived, and I haveloved, and I am content. I went with him to Cuba, and from Cuba toanother island where he had estates, and the name of which I shall notpronounce, because it hurts me so, even yet. There he set eyes uponYsola de Valera, the daughter of his manager, and, pouf!"

She shrugged and snapped her fingers. 

"He was like that, you understand? I knew it well. They did not callhim Devil Menendez for nothing. There was a scene, a dreadful scene, and after that another, and yet a third. I have pride. If I had seemedto forget it, still it was there. I left him, and went back to France. I tried to forget. I entered upon works of charity for the soldiers ata time when others were becoming tired. I spent a great part of myfortune upon establishing a hospital, and this child"--she threw herarm around Val Beverley--"worked with me night and day. I think Iwanted to die. Often I tried to die. Did I not, dear?"

"You did, Madame, " said the girl in a very low voice. 

"Twice I was arrested in the French lines, where I had crept dressedlike a _poilu_, from where I shot down many a Prussian. Is it notso?"

"It is true, " answered the girl, nodding her head. 

"They caught me and arrested me, " said Madame, with a sort of triumph. "If it had been the British"--she raised her hand in that Bernhardtgesture--"with me it would have gone hard. But in France a woman'ssmile goes farther than in England. I had had my fun. They called me'good comrade!' Perhaps I paid with a kiss. What does it matter? Butthey heard of me, those Prussian dogs. They knew and could not forgive. How often did they come over to bomb us, Val, dear?"

"Oh, many, many times, " said the girl, shudderingly. 

"And at last they succeeded, " added Madame, bitterly. "God! the blackvillains! Let me not think of it. "

She clenched her hands and closed her eyes entirely, but presentlyresumed again:

"If they had killed me I should have been glad, but they only made ofme a cripple. M. De Stämer had been killed a few weeks before this. Iam sorry I forgot to mention it. I was a widow. And when after thiscatastrophe I could be moved, I went to a little villa belonging to myhusband at Nice, to gain strength, and this child came with me, like aray of sunshine. 

"Here, to wake the fire in my heart, came Juan, deserted, broken, wounded in soul, but most of all in pride, in that evil pride whichbelongs to his race, which is so different from the pride of France, but for which all the same I could never hate him. 

"Ysola de Valera had run away from his great house in Cuba. Yes! Awoman had dared to leave him, the man who had left so many women. To meit was pathetic. I was sorry for him. He had been searching the worldfor her. He loved this little golden-haired girl as he had never lovedme. But to me he came with his broken heart, and I"--her voicetrembled--"I took him back. He still cared for me, you understand. Ah!"She laughed. "I am not a woman who is lightly forgotten. But the greatpassion that burned in his Spanish soul was revenge. 

"He was a broken man not only in mind, but in body. Let me tell you. Inthat island which I have not named there is a horrible disease calledby the natives the Creeping Sickness. It is supposed to come from apoisonous place named the Black Belt, and a part of this Black Belt isnear, too near, to the hacienda in which Juan sometimes lived. "

Paul Harley started and glanced at me significantly. 

"They think, those simple negroes, that it is witchcraft, Voodoo, thework of the Obeah man. It is of two kinds, rapid and slow. Those whosuffer from the first kind just decline and decline and die in greatagony. Others recover, or seem to do so. It is, I suppose, a matter ofconstitution. Juan had had this sickness and had recovered, or so thedoctors said, but, ah!"

She lay back, shaking her finger characteristically. 

"In one year, in two, three, a swift pain comes, like a needle, youunderstand? Perhaps in the foot, in the hand, in the arm. It isexquisite, deathly, while it lasts, but it only lasts for a fewmoments. It is agony. And then it goes, leaving nothing to show whathas caused it. But, my friends, it is a death warning!

"If it comes here"--she raised one delicate white hand--"you may havefive years to live; if in the foot, ten, or more. But"--she sank hervoice dramatically--"the nearer it is to the heart, the less are thedays that remain to you of life. "

"You mean that it recurs?" asked Harley. 

"Perhaps in a week, perhaps not for another year, it comes again, thatquick agony. This time in the shoulder, in the knee. It is the secondwarning. Three times it may come, four times, but at last"--she laidher hand upon her breast--"it comes here, in the heart, and all isfinished. "

She paused as if exhausted, closing her eyes again, whilst we three wholistened looked at one another in an awestricken silence, until thevibrant voice resumed:

"There is only one man in Europe who understands this thing, thisCreeping Sickness. He is a Frenchman who lives in Paris. To him Juanhad been, and he had told him, this clever man, 'If you are very quietand do not exert yourself, and only take as much exercise as isnecessary for your general health, you have one year to live--'"

"My God!" groaned Harley. 

"Yes, such was the verdict. And there is no cure. The poor sufferermust wait and wait, always wait, for that sudden pang, not knowing ifit will come in his heart and be the finish. Yes. This living death, then, and revenge, were the things ruling Juan's life at the time ofwhich I tell you. He had traced Ysola de Valera to England. A chanceremark in a London hotel had told him that a Chinaman had been seen ina Surrey village and of course had caused much silly chatter. Heenquired at once, and he found out that Colin Camber, the man who hadtaken Ysola from him, was living with her at the Guest House, here, onthe hill. How shall I tell you the rest?"

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Harley, his glance set upon her, with asort of horror in his gray eyes, "I think I can guess. "

She turned to him rapidly. 

"M. Harley, " she said, "you are a clever man. I believe you are agenius. And I have the strength to tell you because I am happy to-night. Because of his great wealth Juan succeeded in buying Cray'sFolly from Sir James Appleton to whom it belonged. He told everybody heleased it, but really he bought it. He paid him more than twice itsvalue, and so obtained possession. 

"But the plan was not yet complete, although it had taken form in thatclever, wicked brain of his. Oh! I could tell you stories of theMenendez, and of the things they have done for love and revenge, whicheven you, who know much of life, would doubt, I think. Yes, you wouldnot believe. But to continue. Shall I tell you upon what terms he hadreturned to me, eh? I will. Once more he would suffer that pang ofdeath in life, for he had courage, ah! such great courage, and then, when the waiting for the next grew more than even his fearless heartcould bear, I, who also had courage, and who loved him, should----" Shepaused, "Do you understand?"

Harley nodded dumbly, and suddenly I found Val Beverley's littlefingers twined about mine. 

"I agreed, " continued the deep voice. "It was a boon which I, too, would have asked from one who loved me. But to die, knowing anothercherished the woman who had been torn from him, was an impossibilityfor Juan Menendez. What he had schemed to do at first I never knew. Butpresently, because of our situation here, and because of that which hehad asked of me, it came, the great plan. 

"On the night he told me, a night I shall never forget, I drew back inhorror from him--I, Marie de Stämer, who thought I knew the blackestthat was in him. I shrank. And because of that scene it came to himagain in the early morning--the moment of agony, the needle pain, here, low down in his left breast. 

"He pleaded with me to do the wicked thing that he had planned, andbecause I dared not refuse, knowing he might die at my feet, Iconsented. But, my friends, I had my own plan, too, of which he knewnothing. On the next day he went to Paris, and was told he had twomonths to live, with great, such great care, but perhaps only a week, aday, if he should permit his hot passions to inflame that threatenedheart. Very well. 

"I said yes, yes, to all that he suggested, and he began to lay thetrail--the trail to lead to his enemy. It was his hobby, thisvengeance. He was like a big, cruel boy. It was he, himself, JuanMenendez, who broke into Cray's Folly. It was he who nailed the batwing to the door. It was he who bought two rifles of a kind of which somany millions were made during the war that anybody might possess one. And it was he who concealed the first of these, one cartridgedischarged, under the floor of the hut in the garden of the GuestHouse. The other, which was to be used, he placed--"

"In the shutter-case of one of the tower rooms, " continued Paul Harley. "I know! I found it there to-night. "

"What?" I asked, "you found it, Harley?"

"I returned to look for it, " he said. "At the present moment it isupstairs in my room. "

"Ah, M. Harley, " exclaimed Madame, smiling at him radiantly, "I loveyour genius. Then it was, " she continued, "that he thought himselfready, ready for revenge and ready for death. He summoned you, M. Harley, to be an expert witness. He placed with you evidence whichcould not fail to lead to the arrest of M. Camber. Very well. I allowedhim to do all this. His courage, _mon Dieu_, how I worshipped hiscourage!

"At night, when everyone slept, and he could drop the mask, I have seenwhat he suffered. I have begged him, begged him upon my knees, to allowme to end it then and there; to forget his dream of revenge, to diewithout this last stain upon his soul. But he, expecting at any hour, at any minute, to know again the agony which cannot be described, whichis unlike any other suffered by the flesh--refused, refused! And I"--she raised her eyes ecstatically--"I have worshipped this courage ofhis, although it was evil--bad. 

"The full moon gives the best light, and so he planned it for the nightof the full moon. But on the night before, because of some scene whichhe had with you, M. Harley, nearly I thought his plans would come tonothing. Nearly I thought the last act of love which he asked of mewould never be performed. He sat there, up in the little room which heliked best, the coldness upon him which always came before the pang, waiting, waiting, a deathly dew on his forehead, for the end; and I, Iwho loved him better than life, watched him. And, so Fate willed it, the pang never came. "

"You watched him?" I whispered. 

Harley turned to me slowly. 

"Don't you understand, Knox?" he said, in a voice curiously unlike hisown. 

"Ah, my friend, " Madame de Stämer laid her hand upon my arm with thatcaressing gesture which I knew, "you do understand, don't you? Thepower to use my limbs returned to me during the last week that I livedin Nice. "

She bent forward and raised her face, in an almost agonized appeal toVal Beverley. 

"My dear, my dear, " she said, "forgive me, forgive me! But I loved himso. One day, I think"--her glance sought my face--"you will know. Thenyou will forgive. "

"Oh, Madame, Madame, " whispered the girl, and began to sob silently. 

"Is it enough?" asked Madame de Stämer, raising her head, and lookingdefiantly at Paul Harley. "Last night, you, M. Harley, who have genius, nearly brought it all to nothing. You passed the door in the shrubberyjust when Juan was preparing to go out. I was watching from the windowabove. Then, when you had gone, he came out--smoking his lastcigarette. 

"I went to my place, entering the tower room by the door from thatcorridor. I opened the window. It had been carefully oiled. It wassoundless. I was cold as one already dead, but love made me strong. Ihad seen him suffer. I took the rifle from its hiding-place, the heavyrifle which so few women could use. It was no heavier than some which Ihad used before, and to good purpose. "

Again she paused, and I saw her lips trembling. Before my mind's eyethe picture arose which I had seen from Harley's window, the picture ofColonel Juan Menendez walking in the moonlight along the path to thesun-dial, with halting steps, with clenched fists, but upright as asoldier on parade. Walking on, dauntlessly, to his execution. Out of asort of haze, which seemed to obscure both sight and hearing, I heardMadame speaking again. 

"He turned his head toward me. He threw me a kiss--and I fired. Did youthink a woman lived who could perform such a deed, eh? If you did notthink so, it is because you have never looked into the eyes of one wholoved with her body, her mind, and with her soul. I think, yes, I thinkI went mad. The rifle I remember I replaced. But I remember no more. Ah!"

She sighed in a resigned, weary way, untwining her arm from about ValBeverley, and falling back upon her pillows. 

"It is all written here, " she said; "every word of it, my friends, andsigned at the bottom. I am a murderess, but it was a merciful deed. Yousee, I had a plan of which Juan knew nothing. This was my plan. " Shepointed to the heap of manuscript. "I would give him relief from hisagonies, yes. For although he was an evil man, I loved him better thanlife. I would let him die happy, thinking his revenge complete. Butothers to suffer? No, no! a thousand times no! Ah, I am so tired. "

She took up the little medicine bottle, poured its contents into theglass, and emptied it at a draught. 

Paul Harley, as though galvanized, sprang to his feet. "My God!" hecried, huskily, "Stop her, stop her!" Val Beverley, now desperatelywhite, clutched at me with quivering fingers, her agonized glance setupon the smiling face of Madame de Stämer. 

"No fuss, dear friends, " said Madame, gently, "no trouble, no nastystomach-pumps; for it is useless. I shall just fall asleep in a fewmoments now, and when I wake Juan will be with me. "

Her face was radiant. It became lighted up magically. I knew in thatgrim hour what a beautiful woman Madame de Stämer must have been. Sherested her hand upon Val Beverley's head, and looked at me with herstrange, still eyes. 

"Be good to her, my friend, " she whispered. "She is English, but notcold like some. She, too, can love. "

She closed her eyes and dropped back upon her pillows for the lasttime. 

CHAPTER XXXV

AN AFTERWORD

This shall be a brief afterword, for I have little else to say. AsMadame had predicted, all antidotes and restoratives were of no avail. She had taken enough of some drug which she had evidently had in herpossession for this very purpose to ensure that there should be noawakening, and although Dr. Rolleston was on the spot within half anhour, Madame de Stämer was already past human aid. 

There are perhaps one or two details which may be of interest. Forinstance, as a result of the post-mortem examination of ColonelMenendez, no trace of disease was discovered in any of the organs, butfrom information supplied by his solicitors, Harley succeeded intracing the Paris specialist to whom Madame de Stämer had referred; andhe confirmed her statement in every particular. The disease, to whichhe gave some name which I have forgotten, was untraceable, he declared, by any means thus far known to science. 

As we had anticipated, the bulk of Colonel Don Juan's wealth he hadbequeathed to Madame de Stämer, and she in turn had provided that allof which she might die possessed should be divided between certaincharities and Val Beverley. 

I thus found myself at the time when all these legal processesterminated engaged to marry a girl as wealthy as she was beautiful. Therefore, except for the many grim memories which it had left with me, nothing but personal good fortune resulted from my sojourn at Cray'sFolly, beneath the shadow of that Bat Wing which had had no existenceoutside the cunning imagination of Colonel Juan Menendez. 

THE END