Bat Wing

by Sax Rohmer

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

  My brilliant friend at times displayed a sort of prescience, of whichI may have occasion to speak later, but I, together with the rest ofpur-blind humanity, am commonly immune from the prophetic instinct.Therefore I chronicle the fact for what it may be worth, that as I gazedwith a sort of disgust at the exhibit lying upon the table I becamepossessed of a conviction, which had no logical basis, that a door hadbeen opened through which I should step into a new avenue of being; Ifelt myself to stand upon the threshold of things strange and terrible,but withal alluring. Perhaps it is true that in the great crises of lifethe 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 smiled slightly."Accompanied by my friend, Mr. Knox, I had proposed to indulge in afortnight'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 down sharplyupon 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 time ofa busy man I do not for a moment believe, therefore I shall ask you asbriefly as possible to state your case in detail. When I have heard it,if it appears to me that any good purpose can be served by my friendand myself coming to Cray's Folly I feel sure that he will be happy toaccept 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 hadnone of 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 and delighted.When you shall have heard my story I know what your decision will 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 in awondering fashion to the bat wing lying on his table.

  "I will speak briefly," resumed our visitor, "and any details whichmay seem to you to be important can be discussed later when you aremy guests. 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 goingto tell 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 in thepast 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 touchwith negro 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 thatthere existed a secret organization amongst the native labourersoperating--you understand?--against my interests. He produced certainevidences of 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 cruelty whichhad directly led to United States interferences in the islands. Butwhilst I could well believe that this man's life had not been safe inthose bad old days in the West Indies, I found it difficult to supposethat a native plot against his safety could have survived for more thantwenty years and have come to a climax in England. However, I realizedthat there was more to follow, and presently, having lighted hiscigarette, 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 earliesttimes the 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 tomy criticism 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 horse beforethe veranda, having returned from a long ride around the estate, a shotwas fired from the border of the Black Belt which at one point crept updangerously 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 m
ustered, do yousay?--which was prepared to explore the poison swamp--or so declaredmy native servants. Valera, however, seized upon this incident toillustrate his theory that there were those in the island who did nothesitate to enter the Black Belt popularly supposed to cast up noxiousvapours 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 had evidentlybeen 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, senor,' 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 vegetationin which 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 we mustthrust 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 the moonlight,but this, although tropically brilliant, at some places scarcelypenetrated the thick vapour which arose from the jungle. In those days Iwas a young and vigorous man; my companion was several years my senior;and his sufferings were far greater than my own. But if the jungle washorrible, 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!it was filthy--vile! And I became aware of great--lassitude, do yousay?--whilst Valera's panting breath told that he had almost reached theend of 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 trees aheadof 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 ofDevil-worshippers, or devotees of the cult of Voodoo! One man only couldI see clearly so as to remember him, a big negro employed upon one ofmy estates. He seemed to be a sort of high priest or president of theorgies. Attached to his arms were giant imitations of bat wings which hemoved grotesquely as if in flight. There were many women in the throng,which numbered fully I should think a hundred people. But the finalcollapse of my brave, unhappy Valera at this point brought home to methe nature of the peril in which I stood.

  "He lay at my feet, moving convulsively, and sinking ever deeper inthe swamp, 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 a factbeyond 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 in thegrip of a strange fever which prostrated me for many months, and whichdefied the knowledge of all the specialists who could be procured fromCuba and the United States. My survival was due to an iron constitution;but I have never been the same man. I was ordered to leave the WestIndies directly it became possible for me to be moved. I arranged myaffairs 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 under theveranda ran swiftly off; but not so swiftly that I failed to obtain aglimpse 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 gonein hourly 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 servantswho had drawn my attention to its presence would consent to touchit. 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 which Icould not fight.r />
  "Permit me to be brief, gentlemen. Six attempts of various kindswere made 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 doubtlessto conceal 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 busily rolling,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 asthe result 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, I leasedit for a period of years, installing--is it correct?--my cousin, Madamede Staemer, as housekeeper. Madame, alas, is an invalid, but"--he kissedhis 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 you willhonour me with your presence at Cray's Folly to-morrow, gentlemen, youwill 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 the Burmesecabinet, one hand resting upon his hip; a massive yet graceful figure.

  "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 determinedto visit 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, yellowfingers.

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

  "I must take time to consider how I shall place it before you. But I maycount 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