Bat Wing

by Sax Rohmer

  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 the horribleand tragic happening which I have set myself to relate are hazy andindistinct. I was troubled by the continued absence of Val Beverley.I thought that she was avoiding me by design, and in Harley's gloomyreticence 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 stopped toinspect a very perfect rose bush, he left me without a word, and I foundmyself 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 and withdrew.

  I strolled around into the library and inspected scores of books withoutforming any definite impression of the contents of any of them. Manoelcame in whilst I was there and I was strongly tempted to send a messageto Miss Beverley, but common sense overcame the inclination.

  When at last my watch told me that the hour for dressing was arrived,I heaved 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 upon theterrace I realized with a sort of shock that the gathering dusk held amenace, so that I found myself questioning the shadows and doubtingthe rustle of every leaf. Something invisible, intangible yet potent,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. The placewas bathed in a sort of purple half-light, lending it a fairy air ofunreality, 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 the keynoteof my reflections as, descending the steps to the sunken garden, I sawVal Beverley, in a delicate blue gown, coming toward me. She was thespirit of my dreams, and the embodiment of my mood. When she lowered hereyes at my approach, I knew by virtue of a sort of inspiration that shehad 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 Staemer andColonel Menendez are deliberately concealing something from Paul Harley,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," she said,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 notjust morbid imagination on my part. If only I knew what to do, what tobelieve. Really, I am bewildered. I have just left Madame de Staemer--"

  "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 of Cray'sFolly 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, Madamede Staemer came wheeling through the doorway, closely followed by PaulHarley. In her the art of the toilette amounted almost to genius, andshe had so successfully concealed all traces of her recent grief that Iwondered 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 arrange Madamein 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. Fra
nce has bredsome wonderful women, both good and bad, but none I think more wonderfulthan Marie de Staemer.

  If such a thing were possible, we dined more extravagantly than onthe previous 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 of silencein which Madame seemed to be listening for some distant sound, there wasnothing, I think, which could have told a casual observer that a blackcloud rested upon the house.

  Once, interrupting a tete-a-tete 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 yourlife, 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 papersof various kinds, and there was also a large bookcase occupied almostexclusively by French novels. It occurred to me that the Colonel spent agreater part of his time in this little snuggery than in the more formalstudy below. At the moment of our arrival he was stretched upon asettee near which stood a little table; and on this table I observed theremains of what appeared to me to have been a fairly substantial repast.For some reason which I did not pause to analyze at the moment I notedwith disfavour the presence of a bowl of roses upon the silver tray.

  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 expressmy sorrow. 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, ifI had 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 onlysorry that my uncertain health has made me so poor a host. Nothinghas occurred since your arrival to help you, I am aware. Not that Iam anxious 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, andif your visit should prove futile, I can only apologize forhaving interrupted your original plans. Respecting to-night"--heshrugged--"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 observed anything."

  "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 the settee,whilst he skilfully rolled his eternal cigarettes and chatted in thatpeculiar, light voice. Before the memory of Colonel Don Juan SarmientoMenendez I sometimes stand appalled. If his Maker had but endowed himwith other qualities of mind and heart equal to his magnificent courage,then truly he had been a great man.

  CHAPTER XVII

  NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON