by Sax Rohmer
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 upon theknocker. This had its effect. The door opened and Ah Tsong looked out.
"Tell your master that Mr. Paul Harley has called to see him upon urgentbusiness."
"Master no got," replied Ah Tsong, and proceeded to close the door.
Paul Harley thrust his hand against it and addressed the man rapidlyin Chinese. I could not have supposed the face of Ah Tsong capable ofexpressing so much animation. At the sound of his native tongue his eyeslighted up, and:
"_Tchee, tchee,_" 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 not doubt.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 in progress,and suddenly the gaunt figure of Colin Camber burst into view.
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 Senor 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 I believeyou 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 was arresting.
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 a whisper.
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 the strangestudy where East grimaced at West, and emblems of remote devil-worshipjostled the cross of the Holy Rose. The place was laden with tobaccosmoke, and scattered on the carpet about the feet of the writing tablelay twenty or more pages of closely written manuscript. Although thiswas a brilliant summer's morning, an old-fashioned reading lamp, called,I believe, a Victoria, having a nickel receptacle for oil at one side ofthe standard and a burner with a green glass shade upon the other, stillshed its light upon the desk. It was only reasonable to suppose thatColin 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," replied Harleywithout hesitation, "and Mr. Knox kindly consented to accompany me."
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 something compellingin voice and gesture, "I must first perform my duty as a gentleman."
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 the humiliationof 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 will behere 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. Frowning slightly helooked from Harley in my direction, and then back again at Harley.
"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 as heleaned forward across the desk must certainly have removed it. That theman was intellectually unusual, and intensely difficult to understand,must have been apparent to the most superficial observer, but I found ithard to believe that these moods of his were simulated. At the words "ASouth American Vampire Bat" the enthusiasm of the specialist leapt intohis eyes. Personal danger was forgotten. Harley had trenched upon hisparticular territory, and I knew that if Colin Camber had actuallykilled Colonel Menendez, then it had been the act of a maniac. No mannewly come from so bloody a deed could have acted as 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. Here wasthe 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
