by Sax Rohmer
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 Staemer, 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 Nita tellsme 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 upon theshoulders of Miss Beverley in the absence of Madame de Staemer.
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 reentered 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," Iexplained.
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 make meleave 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 out intothe 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 idea whatever?"
"Not that he has confided to me," I said, watching her intently. "Buttell me, does Madame de Staemer 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 the end?"
"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 the questionsInspector 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 coming backat 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 hope itwill 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 to speakto 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 and theslopes beyond, although what they were looking for I could not imagine.
/> Giving the library a wide berth, I walked along the second terrace,and presently 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 he stood.
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 above uswhere we stand." He stared at me queerly. "I must have passed this doorlast night only a few moments before the Colonel came out, for I wasjust crossing the courtyard and could see you at my window at the momentwhen you saw poor Menendez enter the Tudor garden. He must have actuallybeen walking around the east wing at the same time that I was walkingaround the west. Now, I am going to show you something, Knox, somethingwhich 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. And now,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 pulled upshort, and:
"I am not mad," he explained rather breathlessly, "but I wanted to avoidbeing seen by that constable who is prowling about at the bottom of thelawn making signals in the direction of the library. Presumably he isreplying to Inspector Aylesbury who wants to talk to us. I am determinedto interview Camber before submitting to further official interrogation.It must be a cross-country journey, Knox. I am afraid we shall be avery muddy pair, but great issues may hang upon the success of ourexpedition."
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. "You willhave 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, having scrambledup on the farther side, we found ourselves standing on a narrow bankimmediately under that summer house which Colin Camber had told me hehad 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 find ourselvesupon the high road some hundred yards to the west of the Guest 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's lifeis 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
