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CHAPTER I. PAUL HARLEY OF CHANCERY LANE
CHAPTER I. PAUL HARLEY OF CHANCERY LANE
Toward the hour of six on a hot summer’s evening Mr. Paul Harley was seated in his private office in Chancery Lane reading through a number of letters which Innes, his secretary, had placed before him for signature. Only one more remained to be passed, but it was a long, confidential report upon a certain matter, which Harley had prepared for His Majesty’s Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. He glanced with a sigh of weariness at the little clock upon his table before commencin
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CHAPTER II. THE VOODOO SWAMP
CHAPTER II. THE VOODOO SWAMP
Often enough my memory has recaptured that moment in Paul Harley’s office, when Harley, myself, and the tall Spaniard stood looking down at the bat wing lying upon the blotting pad. My brilliant friend at times displayed a sort of prescience, of which I may 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 I gazed with a sort of disgust at the exhibit
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CHAPTER III. THE VAMPIRE BAT
CHAPTER III. THE VAMPIRE BAT
An hour had elapsed since the departure of our visitor, and Paul Harley and I sat in the cosy, book-lined study discussing the strange story which had been related to us. Harley, who had a friend attached to the Spanish Embassy, had succeeded in getting in touch with him at his chambers, and had obtained some few particulars of interest concerning Colonel Don Juan Sarmiento Menendez, for such were the full names and titles of our late caller. He was apparently the last representative of a once g
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CHAPTER IV. CRAY’S FOLLY
CHAPTER IV. CRAY’S FOLLY
Paul Harley lay back upon the cushions and glanced at me with a quizzical smile. The big, up-to-date car which Colonel Menendez had placed at our disposal was surmounting a steep Surrey lane as though no gradient had existed. “Some engine!” he said, approvingly. I nodded in agreement, but felt disinclined for conversation, being absorbed in watching the characteristically English scenery. This, indeed, was very beautiful. The lane along which we were speeding was narrow, winding, and over-arched
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CHAPTER V. VAL BEVERLEY
CHAPTER V. VAL BEVERLEY
The luncheon was so good as to be almost ostentatious. One could not have lunched better at the Carlton. Yet, since this luxurious living was evidently customary in the colonel’s household, a charge of ostentation would not have been deserved. The sinister-looking Pedro proved to be an excellent servant; and because of the excitement of feeling myself to stand upon the edge of unusual things, the enjoyment of a perfectly served repast, and the sheer delight which I experienced in watching the pl
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CHAPTER VI. THE BARRIER
CHAPTER VI. THE BARRIER
Colonel Menendez conducted us to a long, lofty library in which might be detected the same note of un-English luxury manifested in the other appointments of the house. The room, in common with every other which I had visited in Cray’s Folly, was carried out in oak: doors, window frames, mantelpiece, and ceiling representing fine examples of this massive woodwork. Indeed, if the eccentricity of the designer of Cray’s Folly were not sufficiently demonstrated by the peculiar plan of the building, i
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CHAPTER VII. AT THE LAVENDER ARMS
CHAPTER VII. AT THE LAVENDER ARMS
In certain moods Paul Harley was impossible as a companion, and I, who knew him well, had learned to leave him to his own devices at such times. These moods invariably corresponded with his meeting some problem to the heart of which the lance of his keen wit failed to penetrate. His humour might not display itself in the spoken word, he merely became oblivious of everything and everybody around him. People might talk to him and he scarce noted their presence, familiar faces appear and he would s
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CHAPTER VIII. THE CALL OF M’KOMBO
CHAPTER VIII. THE CALL OF M’KOMBO
Of tea upon the veranda of Cray’s Folly that afternoon I retain several notable memories. I got into closer touch with my host and hostess, without achieving anything like a proper understanding of either of them, and I procured a new viewpoint of Miss Val Beverley. Her repose was misleading. She deliberately subjugated her own vital personality to that of Madame de Stämer, why, I knew not, unless she felt herself under an obligation to do so. That her blue-gray eyes could be wistful was true en
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CHAPTER IX. OBEAH
CHAPTER IX. OBEAH
This conversation in Colonel Menendez’s study produced a very unpleasant impression upon my mind. The atmosphere of Cray’s Folly seemed to become charged with unrest. Of Madame de Stämer and Miss Beverley I saw nothing up to the time that I retired to dress. Having dressed I walked into Harley’s room, anxious to learn if he had formed any theory to account for the singular business which had brought us to Surrey. Harley had excused himself directly we had left the study, stating that he wished t
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CHAPTER X. THE NIGHT WALKER
CHAPTER X. THE NIGHT WALKER
If luncheon had seemed extravagant, dinner at Cray’s Folly proved to be a veritable Roman banquet. To associate ideas of selfishness with Miss Beverley was hateful, but the more I learned of the luxurious life of this queer household hidden away in the Surrey Hills the less I wondered at any one’s consenting to share such exile. I had hitherto counted an American freak dinner, organized by a lucky plunger and held at the Café de Paris, as the last word in extravagant feasting. But I learned now
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CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND
CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND
Perhaps it was childish on my part, but I accepted this curt dismissal very ill-humouredly. That Harley, for some reason of his own, wished to be alone, was evident enough, but I resented being excluded from his confidence, even temporarily. It would seem that he had formed a theory in the prosecution of which my coöperation was not needed. And what with profitless conjectures concerning its nature, and memories of Val Beverley’s pathetic parting glance as we had bade one another good-night, sle
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CHAPTER XII. MORNING MISTS
CHAPTER XII. MORNING MISTS
The man known as Manoel awakened me in the morning. Although characteristically Spanish, he belonged to a more sanguine type than the butler and spoke much better English than Pedro. He placed upon the table 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, “but the ladies rarely come down. W
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CHAPTER XIII. AT THE GUEST HOUSE
CHAPTER XIII. AT THE GUEST HOUSE
I presented myself at the Guest House at half-past eleven. My mental state was troubled and indescribably complex. Perhaps my own uneasy, thoughts were responsible for the idea, but it seemed to me that the atmosphere of Cray’s Folly had changed yet again. Never before had I experienced a sense of foreboding like that which had possessed me throughout the hours of this bright summer’s morning. Colonel Menendez had appeared about nine o’clock. He exhibiting no traces of illness that were percepti
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CHAPTER XIV. YSOLA CAMBER
CHAPTER XIV. YSOLA CAMBER
I find it difficult, now, to recapture my first impression of that meeting. About the woman, hesitating before me, there was something unexpected, something wholly unfamiliar. She belonged to a type with which I was not acquainted. Nor was it wonderful that she should strike me in this fashion, since my wanderings, although fairly extensive, had never 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 rare beauties, a go
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CHAPTER XV. UNREST
CHAPTER XV. UNREST
I sat in Paul Harley’s room. Luncheon was over, and although, as on the previous day, it had been a perfect repast, perfectly served, the sense of tension which I had experienced throughout the meal had made me horribly ill at ease. That shadow of which I have spoken elsewhere seemed to have become almost 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 the rings upon her slender fingers and sh
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CHAPTER XVI. RED EVE
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 incident worthy of record. But because great things overshadow small, so it may be that whereas my recollections of quite trivial episodes are sharp enough up to a point, my memories from this point onward to the horrible and tragic happening which I have set myself to relate are hazy and indistinct. I was troubled by the continued absence of Val Beverley. I thought
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CHAPTER XVII. NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON
CHAPTER XVII. NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON
I stood at Harley’s open window—looking down in the Tudor garden. The moon, like a silver mirror, hung in a cloudless sky. Over an hour had elapsed since I had heard Pedro making his nightly rounds. Nothing whatever of an unusual nature had occurred, and although Harley and I had listened for any sound of nocturnal footsteps, our vigilance had passed unrewarded. Harley, unrolling the Chinese ladder, had set out upon a secret tour of the grounds, warning me that it must be a long business, since
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CHAPTER XVIII. INSPECTOR AYLESBURY OF MARKET HILTON
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 library windows resembled a study by Bastien-Lepage. The lamps burned yellowly, and the exotic appointments of the library viewed in that cold light for some reason reminded me of a stage set seen in daylight. The Velasquez portrait mentally translated me to the billiard room where something lay upon the settee with a white sheet drawn over it; and I wondered if my o
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CHAPTER XIX. COMPLICATIONS
CHAPTER XIX. COMPLICATIONS
“I am afraid of this man Aylesbury,” said Paul Harley. We sat in the deserted dining room. I had contributed my account of the evening’s happenings, Dr. Rolleston had made his report, and Inspector Aylesbury was now examining the servants in the library. Harley and I had obtained his official permission to withdraw, and the physician was visiting 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 Go
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CHAPTER XX. A SPANISH CIGARETTE
CHAPTER XX. A SPANISH CIGARETTE
Sleep was not for me, despite Harley’s injunction, and although I was early afoot, the big house was already astir with significant movements which set the imagination on fire, to conjure up again the moonlight scene in the garden, making mock of the song of the birds and of the glory of the morning. Manoel replied to my ring, and prepared my bath, but it was easy to see that he had not slept. No sound came from Harley’s room, therefore I did not disturb him, but proceeded downstairs in the hope
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CHAPTER XXI. THE WING OF A BAT
CHAPTER XXI. THE WING OF A BAT
For a long time our knocking and ringing elicited no response. The brilliant state of the door-brass afforded evidence of the fact that Ah Tsong had arisen, even if the other members of the household were still sleeping, and Harley, growing irritable, executed a loud tattoo upon the knocker. 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 urgent business.” “Master no got,” replied Ah Tsong, and proceeded to close the
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CHAPTER XXII. COLIN CAMBER’S SECRET
CHAPTER XXII. COLIN CAMBER’S SECRET
“I brought this bat wing from Haiti,” he explained, replacing it in the tray. “It was found beneath the pillow of a negro missionary who had died mysteriously during the night.” He returned the tray to the drawer, closed the latter, and, standing erect, raised clenched hands above his head. “With no thought of blasphemy,” he said, “but with reverence, I thank God from the bottom of my heart that Juan Menendez is dead.” He reseated himself, whilst Harley regarded him silently, then: “‘The evil th
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CHAPTER XXIII. INSPECTOR AYLESBURY CROSS-EXAMINES
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 myself each to a stare of disapproval. “These gentlemen very kindly called to advise me of the tragic occurrence at Cray’s Folly,” explained Colin Camber. “Won’t you be seated, 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 intere
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CHAPTER XXIV. AN OFFICIAL MOVE
CHAPTER XXIV. AN OFFICIAL MOVE
We reëntered the study to find Mrs. Camber sitting in a chair very close to her husband. Inspector Aylesbury stood in the open doorway for a 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 to go back to headquarters in a few minutes.” “Very good, sir.” I scented what was coming, and as Inspector Aylesbury reentered the room: “I should like to make a state
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CHAPTER XXV. AYLESBURY’S THEORY
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 high road which would have brought us to the lodge, but had turned aside where the swing-gate opened upon a footpath into the meadows. It was the path which I had pursued upon the day of my visit to the Lavender Arms. A second private gate here gave access to the grounds at a point directly opposite the lake; and as we crossed the valley, making for the terrac
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CHAPTER XXVI. IN MADAME’S ROOM
CHAPTER XXVI. IN MADAME’S ROOM
Madame de Stämer’s apartment was a large and elegant one. From the window-drapings, which were of some light, figured satiny material, to the bed-cover, the lampshades and the carpet, it was French. Faintly perfumed, and decorated with many bowls of roses, it reflected, in its ornaments, its pictures, its slender-legged furniture, the personality of the occupant. In a large, high bed, reclining amidst a number of silken pillows, lay Madame de Stämer. The theme of the room was violet and silver,
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CHAPTER XXVII. AN INSPIRATION
CHAPTER XXVII. AN INSPIRATION
Inspector Aylesbury had disappeared when I came out of the hall, but Pedro was standing there to remind me of the fact that I had not breakfasted. I realized that despite all tragic happenings, I was ravenously hungry, and accordingly I agreed to his proposal that I should take breakfast on the south veranda, as on the previous morning. To the south veranda accordingly I made my way, rather despising myself because I was capable of hunger at such a time and amidst such horrors. The daily papers
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CHAPTER XXVIII. MY THEORY OF THE CRIME
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 well did my theory stand every test which I could apply to it, that I felt disinclined for conversation with any one concerned in the tragedy until I should have submitted the matter to the keen analysis of Harley. Upon the sorrow of Madame de Stämer I naturally did not intrude, nor did I seek to learn if she had carried out her project of looking upon the dead man. About
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CHAPTER XXIX. A LEE-ENFIELD RIFLE
CHAPTER XXIX. A LEE-ENFIELD RIFLE
What reply I should have offered to this astonishing remark I cannot say, but at that moment the library door burst open unceremoniously, and outlined against the warmly illuminated hall, where sunlight poured down through the dome, I beheld the figure of Inspector Aylesbury. “Ah!” he cried, loudly, “so you have come back, Mr. Harley? I thought you had thrown up the case.” “Did you?” said Harley, smilingly. “No, I am still persevering in my ineffectual way.” “Oh, I see. And have you quite convin
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CHAPTER XXX. THE SEVENTH YEW TREE
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 marked him a student of character. I knew Wessex well, and was delighted when Pedro showed him into the library. “Thank God you are here, Wessex,” said Harley, when we had exchanged greetings. “At last I can move. Have you seen the local officer in charge?” “No,” replied the Inspector, “but I gather
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CHAPTER XXXI. YSOLA CAMBER’S CONFESSION
CHAPTER XXXI. YSOLA CAMBER’S CONFESSION
Paul Harley, with Wessex and Inspector Aylesbury, presently set out for Market Hilton, where Colin Camber and Ah Tsong were detained and where the body of Colonel Menendez had been conveyed for the purpose of the post-mortem. I had volunteered to remain at Cray’s Folly, my motive being not wholly an unselfish one. “Refer reporters to me, Mr. Knox,” said Inspector Wessex. “Don’t let them trouble the ladies. And tell them as little as possible, yourself.” The drone of the engine having died away d
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CHAPTER XXXII. PAUL HARLEY’S EXPERIMENT
CHAPTER XXXII. PAUL HARLEY’S EXPERIMENT
I recognize that whosoever may have taken the trouble to follow my chronicle thus far will be little disposed to suffer any intrusion of my personal affairs at such a point. Therefore I shall pass lightly over the walk back to Cray’s Folly, during which I contrived to learn much about Val Beverley’s personal history but little to advance the investigation which I was there to assist. As I had surmised, Miss Beverley had been amply provided for by her father, and was bound to Madame de Stämer by
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CHAPTER XXXIII. PAUL HARLEY’S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED
CHAPTER XXXIII. PAUL HARLEY’S EXPERIMENT CONCLUDED
Up to the very moment that Paul Harley, who had withdrawn, rejoined us in the garden, Inspector Aylesbury had not grasped the significance of that candle burning upon the yew tree. He continued to stare at it as if hypnotized, and when my friend re-appeared, carrying a long ash staff and a sheet of cardboard, I could have laughed to witness the expression upon the Inspector’s face, had I not been too deeply impressed with that which underlay this strange business. Wessex, on the other hand, was
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CHAPTER XXXIV. THE CREEPING SICKNESS
CHAPTER XXXIV. THE CREEPING SICKNESS
From the ensuing consultation in the library we did not rise until close upon midnight. To the turbid intelligence of Inspector Aylesbury the fact by this time had penetrated that Colin Camber was innocent, that he was the victim of a frame-up, and that Colonel Juan Menendez had been shot from a window of his own house. By a process of lucid reasoning which must have convinced a junior schoolboy, Paul Harley, there in the big library, with its garish bookcases and its Moorish ornaments, had elim
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